


The Mojito Chronicles

by koorime_yu



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, BAMF Tony Stark, BUDD-E the happy roomba, Bars and Pubs, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Clint is dumb, Darcy Lewis Is a Good Bro, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Slow Build, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Thor and Loki are a mess, football player thor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-03-06 14:19:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13413084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koorime_yu/pseuds/koorime_yu
Summary: Steve and Bucky own a pub, and it is the centre of their little world. Their friends are always around, Steve has Tony, and Bucky, well, he'd love to have Clint. Instead, he has BUDD-E, the ever joyous roomba robot, courtesy of Tony Stark.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first long fic on these two adorable idiots, so comments are very welcome!
> 
> A big, big, BIG thanks to Stateira, who helped me with the brainstorming, and [GingerEnvy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerEnvy/pseuds/GingerEnvy), my marvelous beta. You're amazing <3

It’s a quiet night. Bucky ties up his hair in a low ponytail and looks at the scribbled order that Steve handed him a few minutes ago. One blonde pint and two Guinness. Good. 

“Hey, dude.”

“‘Good evening to you, too. What can I do for you?” Bucky says, a sarcastic tone in his voice. With his peripheral view, he sees Clint coming into the pub and waves in his direction with a little smile.

“I want a Mojito,” the man in front of him states. Bucky doesn’t even look at the man, he doesn’t care, and smiles at Clint while pouring a Guinness for him. Clint doesn’t look amused and Bucky grins. Clint  _ hates _ that beer. 

“Oi!” the mojito-man says again. 

“I don’t make that shit,” Bucky replies. He pours another beer, a double malt red one, and Clint nods with a joyful squint, sitting on the stool. Bucky puts the Guinness in a corner of the counter bar for himself and hands the red beer to Clint. 

“Oh I am so sorry, I was thinking this was a pub- Oh wait,  _ it is _ ! And I am a customer! So, if I want a fucking mojito, you’ll make it for me!”

Bucky lets the man have his little breakdown and stares silently, his arms crossed on his chest. When the man stops yelling, Bucky raises an eyebrow, unimpressed, and his metal arm glints in the warm light. The man in front of him notices it immediately. His eyes go from the prosthetic arm to the shiny plaque behind Bucky that says:  _ We went to war, we survived, we came back. Be kind or we will kick your ass _ . Bucky sees the comprehension lighting up the man’s face and makes a little grin. Bucky already knows what the man is going to say before he opens his mouth. 

“Or... or maybe not? I’ll have a beer. Blonde. Small-- You know what, man? You know what I want.” The man stays still for a moment, then turns back to his friends - table number two. Good to know. Bucky will give them a five percent surcharge. 

“Oh my God, that was hilarious!” Clint says, laughing. Bucky grins and cheers with him. Then he starts pouring the blonde beer for the jackass. A pint.

“Buck,” Steve’s voice makes him turn to his right, where his best friend for life is looking at him, disappointed.

“What? He asked for a beer, I’m pouring him a beer,” Bucky says, the glass in his hand almost full.

Steve looks unimpressed. “Half pint, Bucky. Don’t make me repeat it.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but makes a smaller blond beer and brings it to the idiot at table number two. 

“Killjoy,” Clint mutters. Bucky shrugs and takes a sip of his beer. 

“Weren’t you supposed to be out of town the whole week?” he asks since it’s Wednesday, and he remembers very well Clint canceled their regular Thursday night out a couple of days before. They’re friends, good friends - in fact, they are a little bit co-dependent, if he listens to Sam, but he never listens to Sam. They’re just friends, and have this night a week to hang out together, go drink beers and talk, or see a movie, or go dancing. Sam calls these nights  _ dates _ , but again, Bucky thinks Sam is an idiot and doesn’t knows what he’s talking about. Clint and him are just really good friends and Bucky likes spending his day off with Clint, mostly. But that doesn’t mean Bucky has a crush on him, okay? It’s just that he likes Clint more than anybody else.

“I was. And then I came back. Earlier, ‘cause I’m the best.” Clint says with a grin. 

“You did something wrong and Natasha kicked your ass?” Bucky asks. 

Clint looks outraged. “I did  _ nothing _ wrong, and Natasha loves me!”

“Kate, then.” Bucky says and Clint looks even more outraged. 

“You’re a jackass and I sincerely don’t know why we are friends.” 

“That would be because you are a jackass, too.”

“Mh,” Clint agrees and makes Bucky laugh. Then the door opens, and someone walks inside, self confidence coming out of every pore and a cheeky grin on his lips.

“Hey losers,” it’s Tony’s  _ Hello _ . “Where is the love of my life?” he asks, heading to the counter, as Bucky reaches for the box of champagne that they keep in the little storage fridge under the counter just for him. The flute is ready in two steps (open the bottle, pour the champagne) and Tony smiles and reaches for it. 

“Thanks, buddy. Now... where is the  _ other _ love of my life?” 

“Tony? What are you doing here?” Steve arrives in that very moment, with a smile full of surprise, and Tony’s eyebrows go up. 

“Here he is, tall, blonde and gorgeous. Don’t you want me here? Are you hiding someone, Rogers?”

Steve blinks and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure, I’m cheating on you and hiding my lover in my pub. In fact, the people you see in here are not customers, they’re all my lovers.”

Steve embraces the room they’re in with his eyes. The counter occupies a good portion of the area right in front of the door, while tables are all positioned around it. From where they are, they cannot see the bigger table where Tony, Clint, Nat and their other friends usually sit, right behind the now empty fireplace. That is Steve’s favourite spot during wintertime. A customer comes out of the other, smaller room they have, the more intimate one, with few tables and softer lights. 

Tony fell in love with the place as fast as he fell in love with Steve. Its’ chaotic, full of old pictures on the walls, strange collection items swinging from the ceiling, dusty lights, and an impressive collection of bottles and steins from all over the world, stuffed all around the walls. 

“Well, you know what they say, the best place for hiding a tree is a forest,” Tony shrugs, but smiles and Steve kisses him welcome. 

“Wrong,” Clint takes a sip of his beer. “Best place for hiding a tree is a carpentry. No one will search for a tree where the trees are not trees anymore.”

The other three men look at Clint, and then is Bucky who speaks. “Well, the best place for hiding a corpse is a tomb,” he says, ‘cause Clint is right, and Clint grins at him and cheers. 

Steve blinks a couple of times and then turns to Tony, smiling. “I’m not hiding any corpse,” 

“Mh,” Tony says. “I believes you, for now.” And then kisses Steve again. 

“Hey! Hey, dude! Why the hell you can have  _ champagne _ while I have to drink this cheap-ass beer?” the idiot from table two says, looking at the flute in Tony’s hand. 

Oh fucking God. Bucky is losing his patience with that guy, for real. 

“‘Cause I own him.” Tony replies with a smirk, and Bucky frowns. 

“You don’t  _ own _ me.”

“I own your arm.”

“Fuck you.”

“Donation!” Steve shouts, going behind the counter to take the tray already full of beers for table number eight. 

“Oh my God, Steve! It’s Tony’s fault!”

“Double, Bucky,” Steve says, pointing at the jar under the bar. “And stop fighting like children, you two,” he adds, while Bucky slips two dollars into the swear jar. Yes, they have a swear jar, and every time Bucky swears - and he does that a lot - he has to make a donation, as Steve calls it. At the end of the year, Steve could get himself something nice, but he gives it all to charity, because he’s Steve. 

“This is not a fight, sweetheart. It’s foreplay. The kind that you don’t like, you know?” Tony says. Predictably, Steve’s cheeks go pink and Tony grins, stretching over the counter to whisper to him: “I’m not complaining. I love a man who knows what he wants and goes  _ down  _ to take it.”

Steve goes completely red and leans towards Tony, desperate for any kind of contact with him. 

“No screwing on the counter bar, you know the rule, Stevie.” Bucky mutters. 

“I’m not-- We’re not--Shut up!” Steve says and runs away with the tray. 

“Ah man, you’re a horrible friend,” Tony says to Bucky. 

“Yeah, I know, but he is too.” Bucky replies with a shrug. Tony and Clint laugh and laugh and Bucky grins, ‘cause everybody has the kind of friends they deserve, and he and Steve deserve the horrible friends kind, lucky them. 

  
  
  


_______________

 

Tony came into Bucky and Steve’s lives two years ago. He was drunk, broken and homeless, and Steve fell in love with him at the third smile. They gave him a home and a job, and soon Tony became an important part of their lives. Thanks to Tony, Bucky had his prosthetic arm upgraded - and that’s an understatement, given that, when he lost his arm in combat, he was given a heavy, static fake one. Stark’s prosthetic was almost as heavy as his natural arm, and allowed him to move it, to pick up things, to lift decent weights. Even their air conditioner came back to life, too. At least for a while. 

“I can’t believe you already broke it again,” Tony says, climbing on the liquor cabinet behind the counter. His jacket lies abandoned on the stool next to Clint, who won’t stop eating his fries and drinking beer with Kate. 

“I did not break anything. It’s that damn thing that doesn't work properly!” Bucky says, pouring beers for a new customer. 

“Liar. The last week I saw you throwing a half empty bottle of vodka at it,” Kate says, smiling innocently, and when Bucky takes away the fries and Clint mutters, outraged, she rises an eyebrow to his friend. “What are you, a child?”

“Hey, why do I have to be punished when  _ you  _ are the one who made him angry?” Clint protests. 

“I’m punishing you ‘cause she is your responsibility, ” Bucky intrudes. 

“She is not.”

“I am not,” They say in unison.

Bucky stays still and Kate rolls her eyes. “Okay, fine.  _ I’m sorry, Bucky _ . I probably misinterpreted. Even if that would be the first time in my entire life.” 

“There’s always a first time,” Bucky says, giving back the fries. 

Clint pats Kate on her shoulder. “Good job, kid.”

“You need to sort out your priorities,” she shoots back, but the other ignores her. 

“Okay, done,” Tony says, jumping down from the cabinet. “And please, don’t throw anything at it again.”

“I don’t throw anything anywhere.”

“Yeah, sure,” Tony pats Bucky’s metal arm with a smile. “Never again, okay?” He repeats and Bucky rolls his eyes. Then Tony’s phone rings and the man goes away with his flute full and the phone already at his ear. “Pepper! Light of my life! What can I do for you?” 

Bucky looks at that man who stole Steve’s heart and laughs, low and quite. Nobody would have given them a single penny, in the best case scenario, but Bucky saw those two fall so hard for each other that he has no doubt about their future. Steve and Tony are happy, even when they fight, and scream at each other and don’t talk for days. Sooner or later, one of them always makes that one single step that says to Bucky that they are living the  _ happily ever after _ kind of love. 

Deep inside his heart, Bucky hopes to find that for himself, too. Maybe with someone like Clint - or even the original Clint, if Bucky lets himself dream about it. 

“So, big plans for tomorrow?” Kate asks and Bucky’s eyebrow go up while he takes a sip from a new, iced pint. 

“What plans?” 

Kate blinks and then turn to Clint, who is drinking his beer like the world depended on it. “Well, isn’t Thursday your weekly date night?” she asks. 

Clint doesn’t flinch.“Well, yeah. I was thinking--”

“That’s never a good sign.”

“Ah-fucking-ah, Barnes. Shut up and listen, okay? It’s almost two years since you have that shiny new arm of yours, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Then, it’s time to prove your ability. You can’t go around and tell everyone that you were the best sniper in the damn Delta Force without showing some evidence.”

“I can because I was. And you know what? I still am, fuck you very much. I’ll prove it to you. Choose a place and time, Barton, I’ll kick your ass upside down.”

Clint grins and nods, and offers him a little card with splashes of colours on it. “Tomorrow. Me, you and a loaded shotgun.”

Bucky is so unimpressed. “Paintball? Seriously?”

“What? Too macho to get dirty?”

“No. In fact, I was wondering about you and your ass.”

Clint smirks. “What’s about it, Bucky bear?”

“Well, it will be difficult for you to sit on your butt, after I’ll have it nice and kicked all day long.”

Clint laughs and Bucky smiles - ‘cause he’s an idiot and has a mothereffing crush on Clint, but he’ll be damned before admitting that Sam is right. 

“Paintball? Cool!" and yes, of course it’s Sam, who walks right through them with a smile, ‘cause Bucky is  _ so lucky _ . "When?"

"Tomorrow," Kate answers, and Sam takes the cardboard from Bucky's hand. 

"Really cool. Hey, Steve! What do you think about paintball, tomorrow? Me and you against these two losers.” 

Steve blinks and turns to look at Tony, at table number five - their table - with Natasha. “Tomorrow? Well, technically Tony and I already have something to do and I don't--”

Tony waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, stop with that look, you big baby. Who cares of what we have planned to do? We can do it whenever we want. And you know what I think about paintball, Steve. Paintball wins everything. And you know what? You guys do not have any chances against me and Natasha, right sweetheart?”

“You can say it, Stark. And don't call me that way never again,” She says with a terrifying smile. Fuck, Bucky loves and fears that smile - like whoever knows Natasha. 

“Wow wow wow. Are all of you coming?” Clint says, standing up from his stool. 

“Yes, Clint, we’re coming," Sam says. Then he smiles, slow and quite, putting a hand on Clint's shoulder, but looking at Bucky. "Unless it’s a date, that is. Because, if it’s a date, say a word and I’ll make sure no one will come and interrupt you.” And - ah, fuck, of course. Sam is a monster and Bucky cannot forget that. Like, ever. 

“Sam, Jesus, shut up, okay? Two pals can go out and have fun without wanting to bang each other, you know?” Bucky says, 'cause Sam always says things like that, and Clint will eventually get tired of it, sooner or later. Who wouldn’t? There is always an end for someone’s patience, even when that someone is Clint, who’s really patient and never has a problem with those stupid bad jokes. 

“Two pals? Sure. You two? Nah,” Sam says and Bucky rolls his eyes. 

"So... tomorrow, then?" Steve asks, looking at Bucky - because he's a really good friend, and any sign from Bucky would be enough for Steve to cancel every plan and leave the two of them alone. Bucky almost considers it, but then he would have to explain it to Clint, and things would get awkward really fast. 

Bucky sighs and doesn't look at Clint. "10 a.m.?"

"Actually, I already had booked for noon. Is it okay for everyone?" 

"Noon? Late sleep morning, I see, you really are trying hard to woo him, aren’t you? But don’t worry, you already got him," Sam says with a smirk. Clint looks at him unimpressed, and Bucky feels panic coming up, 'cause Clint will understand everything sooner or later, if Sam doesn't stop with that stupid shit. 

"Tomorrow, at noon. Deal?" Bucky asks, and everyone nods. 

"Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I've got to pee," Clint says, instead, and leaves. 

Bucky follows him with his eyes until he disappears behind the corner, and sighs. Fuck, he needs to talk to Sam and cut that fucking shit. 

"How about you? Don't you want to shoot at your boss?" Sam asks Kate, who rises an eyebrow. 

"Clint’s not my boss, and I can shoot at him whenever I want," Kate stands up and stretches, collecting her purse. "However, I have more important things to do that lurking on my friends," she adds with a angry look to Sam. After that, she leaves, without another word. 

Everything goes quiet for a while. And in that moment Bucky realises what the radio is playing.

“What the fuck is this shit?” he murmurs and switch it off. “Country music in my playlist? Are you for real, Spotify?” 

There’s a disappointed hum from table two, but with one look from Bucky, they stop. 

Clint eventually comes back, but doesn’t look at him, and sits at the table with Tony and Nat. Bucky sighs and keeps filling the new orders. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my betas GingerEnvy and Serinah <3 and a extra thanks and a big bag of chips to my Stat, the Almighty Mioline Eater. You're dumb as f*ck but I love you <3

“Okay, cover me,” Bucky says, recharging his shotgun. The woods are quiet, too quiet, if you ask Bucky. He’s pretty sure the other two teams are ready to attack, and Clint and him are in the worst place for hiding. They need to get away from here, move fast and quietly. Shoot their friends in the back, if necessary. 

The group arrived in time after a short trip by car to the North. The owner of the paintball area glanced at them and said that they needed to pay extra for the extra players. Tony smiled, payed, and even gave him a tip. A really big tip. Fuck, the guy could go on vacation with that tip, and Bucky suspected he did that just to impress Steve. 

After that, the owner let them take whatever they wanted, even different color bullets for each person, even if they teamed up in pairs. So Bucky got orange and Clint purple; Tony red and Natasha white; Steve blue and Sam yellow. They changed their clothes and went to the woods, shotguns ready. 

The three groups scattered, and the woods went quiet. At least, until now. 

“Woah! Not a chance!” Clint mutters, stopping Bucky from going any further with a hand on his metal shoulder. “I’ll go first and you can cover me.”

“Fuck you, this is my plan and I’ll do it.”

“They’ll see you, man! Your fucking hand shines!”

“I’ll wear a glove,” Bucky says quietly, and true to his word he pulls out a glove from his jacket and wears it. Clint rolls his eyes.

“I hope they shoot you in the ass.”

Bucky laughs quietly, and goes without answering. The shotgun feels strange in his hands. Bucky doesn't know if it's because it is pretty much a toy, or because it's been a while, or even if it's the metal arm’s fault. It's strange, but it feels right anyway, and he wonders if Steve feels the same.

They've been there for an hour by now, and Bucky is pretty sure that no one is ‘dead’ yet. He and Clint are hiding, trying to sneak up on their friends. Probably the others are trying to do the same, because it's suspiciously quiet and still. Too quiet and still for a damn paintball game. Of course, with their friends,  such things tend to get dead serious. Nat and Clint are special agents, Steve, Sam and him are ex Army, and Tony - well, he hates losing. 

The sound of two shots shakes Bucky from his thoughts and he sees Steve and Sam on the clearing, shotguns pointed at Tony.

“Do I need to consider myself a POW?” Tony asks, his knees on the ground, with a big blue pot on his left shoulder and a yellow one on his right leg.

“Depend of what you think I’ll do to a pow,” Steve says, and he is using his flirting voice, the one he’s learned to use since he met Tony. It’s almost hilarious: all big and sweet, trying to be seducing for a man like Tony Stark. Sam, who is keeping an eye on the surrounding wood, rolls his eyes. Bucky almost laughs in his face.

“Many naughty things, I hope,” Tony answers, and Steve laughs and kisses him, while Sam grunts. And gives Bucky the perfect opportunity to attack.

“Oh my God, Steve, stops flirting with the enemy!” Sam says, giving his back to the blind spot of bushes where Bucky’s hiding. 

"I'm not flirting," Steve replys, but his voice is amused.

"Yes, you are and--" One perfect orange shot hits Sam on his helmet, and his eyes become as big as Steve's. "The hell--" he murmurs, but Bucky doesn't listen to him. He waits for Steve to look away from where he’s hiding and takes advantage to move forward. Bucky makes just one single step out of the bush and rolls to his left, avoiding two blue shots. From behind him he hears two shots at the same time, and Clint screaming and falling with a  _ thud _ from a tree.

"Holy  _ shirt _ , I think my ass is broken!"

"You deserve it," Natasha says, stepping out from the other side of the undergrowth. There is a purple spot on her chest, and a homicidal look on her face. Clint shakes his head and cleans his face from the white paint that Nat hit him with.

"So, it seems like it’s the two of us again, Buck," Steve says with his shotgun pointed at Bucky.

"Just like it used to be, Stevie," Bucky smiles, circling Steve like in a dance.

"Are you guys going to shoot or what? I’m hungry and my butt hurts."

"That’s your head.”

"Yeah, that too, Nat, but my butt hurts more, thank you for your concern."

"I'm not concerned. I was just noticing," she says.

“Words can hurt, you know?” 

Bucky tries to focus on Steve, not Clint, but fuck if it’s easy. He wants to laugh so much but he can’t. Bucky knows that, the moment he lays his eyes on Clint, Steve would shoot. But he’d be damned if he let that little punk win so easily. Fuck, they will die here, waiting for one of them to make a move. 

“Come on, Steve, take this asshole down, we’re starving,” Sam says. 

Okay, Bucky needs to do something to break the impasse. He didn’t come back from war to end up stalling to death in a paintball field. 

“I’ll pay for everybody’s lunch if you shoot,” Tony adds, and Clint almost screams out of joy.

Bucky looks at the others and Steve moves, as he predicted. Bucky rolls and hides behind their friends. 

“Oh, come on!” Sam screams, looking at the fresh blue shots on his chest. Bucky ignores him and uses Clint’s shoulder to shoot. He doesn’t need more than one shot, but he needs to have a good view and stability and Clint is perfect for both, because he knows what it means to be a sniper. 

The action is faster than an eyeblink. Breathe out, shoot, breathe in. And an orange spot splashes on Steve’s helmet. 

“Holy fuck, did you just win?” Clint whispers. Their faces are too close and Bucky forgets how to breathe properly for a few seconds. But then Sam says, “And now kiss!” in an amused voice, making Natasha laugh, and Bucky jerks away. It’s like the signal for everybody to get up and try to clean their pants from the dirt. 

“Who’s up for shawarma?” Tony asks and the cry of joy in response is immediate. Bucky lets the others walk on and falls with Steve, who is looking at his helmet with a smile. 

“You’re still the best,” Steve says, and it’s easy to get the pride in his voice. 

“Told you I still am,” Bucky responds with a grin. They walk silently for some time, then Steve looks at him, almost unsure. “Do you miss it?”

“What? The Army?” Bucky guesses, because Steve is predictable to him like the weather in the Sahara Desert. “Sometimes, yeah. But,” Bucky looks at their friend, some steps ahead of them - looks at Clint, who is smiling and laughing with Sam - and shakes his head. “But I like what we have now. You are happy and in love, and I--”

“And you have Clint” Steve suggests, and Bucky feels the usual ache in his chest that he feels every time someone mentions Clint as if they were more of what they really are. 

“It’s nothing like that, you know it, right?”

“Yeah, well, and whose fault is it?” Steve asks, circling Bucky’s shoulders with his big arm. Bucky grunts but doesn’t reply, as they catch up with the others, almost at the exit gate. 

  
  
  


_______________

 

Shawarma is tasty and perfect after a paintball game, Bucky thinks giving a bite to his. They’re all dirty and sweaty, but nobody says anything when they sit at the big table at the end of the diner. Probably thanks to the tips Tony has given to the cashier, when he paid for their lunch. It must be a wonderful day for anyone who meets Tony, today.

“Okay, I’m ready, where is my shawarma?” Clint asks, sitting next to Bucky. His face is now cleaned from the paint and-- holy fuck.

“What the hell happened to your face?”

Clint gives him a questioning look, but doesn’t stop eating his shawarma, and Bucky points at Clint’s nose. “It’s purple and black. Oh fuck, did you break it?”

“What?” Clint blinks in surprise and opens his mouth to deny, on instinct. But then he seems to think about it and tries to  _ breath _ .

“Well, that would explain the blood,” Clint says like it's nothing important. The idiot.

“Shit, can you even breathe?” Sam asks, and right after him Steve adds:

“We need to take you to the hospital.”

Clint looks at Steve getting up and raises one eyebrow when the other man tries to make Clint do the same. "Woah, Steve, let me go!"

"You need to go to the hospital."

"No, I need to eat my shawarma!"

"Clint!"

"Hey, don't yell at me! It's Natasha's fault, yell at her!"

"You would have certainly broken something else even without my help," She comments, but her look is serious and Bucky can see some guilt in her eyes.

"Come on, I'll take you to the hospital," Bucky says, earning a betrayed look from Clint.

"Fuck you," is Clint’s response, while he stubbornly keeps eating.

Tony grabs Steve's arm and pulls him back to the chair again. "Let me take care of it, will you, darling?" Saying so, Tony pulls his phone from his pocket and starts a call.

"Hey, big bro, how are yo-- I'm insulted. Of course I'd call just to know how are you, we're bros," Tony says to his  _ bro _ \- and who the hell is this guy? Neither Bucky nor Steve know about any  _ bro _ . "Yeah, okay, I actually need your help. Can we meet... where?" Tony asks in a whisper and Natasha mouths her address. "Look, you know what? I’m sending you a message with the coordinates. Yes. And bring a first aid kit!" The call closes and Tony smiles, satisfied.

"You are overreacting. All of you," Clint never stops eating, and the first shawarma is gone by now. Bucky wants to hit him on the head with the second one so bad.

"You're an idiot," is the only response that Clint deserves.

  
  
  


_______________

 

Natasha and Clint's flat is in a old, crumbling building two streets away from Steve and Bucky’s pub. When they come in, Lucky barks merrily and walks around them wagging his tail.

"Hey, did you miss me, Luck?" Clint lets the dog lick his face until Natasha drags Lucky away with some treats.

"Sit," Bucky commands, pushing Clint on the sofa. The man rolls his eyes, but follow the order.

"Once again, you're overreacting. And I’m not my dog, for the record."

"Once again, you're not allowed to speak," Bucky replies, looking angrily at him. "You probably would never--" He stops when the doorbell rings.

It's Tony who opens and he does it with a big smile on his face.

"Bruce! Brucie Bear! My Bruce!" Tony says to a brunet man nervously setting the glasses on his nose.

"Why did you call me, Tony? I thought you would be out all day."

"I would. I am. It's the guy on the sofa. He’s had an accident," Tony explains, following the man - Bruce - near the sofa and near Clint. Bruce studies Clint, sighs and then turns to Tony.

"I'm not that kind of doctor, you know," he says, but opens the first aid kit. Tony laughs and pats his shoulder.

"Yeah,  _ Bones _ . Less words, more medicine."

Bruce ignores Tony and concentrates on Clint's broken nose. "What happened?" he asks.

"She happened," Clint answers, pointing at Natasha, who's sitting near the kitchen window.

"It was an accident," she tries. 

"Yeah, sure. Like you can miss a shot like that. I taught you better than that."

"Shot?" Bruce asks, then he lets Clint go. "It's not broken. Put some ice on it and it will reduce in a week or so."

A sigh of relief comes from everyone and Clint touches his nose carefully. "Told you," he says. 

Bucky hits him on the head and Clint looks at him outraged.

"Thanks man, I owe you one," Tony says, and pats Bruce's shoulder once again. The man - the doctor? - shakes his head with a smile. "I owe you more than that and you know it, Tones."

The two men smile at each other for too much time from Bucky's prospective - and also Steve's, if the look on his best friend’s face says something.

"I think it's time to go," Bucky says and Steve nods, still frowning.

"See you at home, Buck," he says and one by one, all of them get out. Natasha is the last one, with Lucky, after a delicate touch into Clint's hair.

Suddenly, the sofa feels like the most real, physical thing to Bucky. The space between him and Clint is almost tangible. Fuck. Why the hell is he still there?

"Why are you here?" Clint asks. It's a quiet whisper, but everything else is silent and his words seem screamed.

"'Cause I'm pretty sure you will set yourself on fire if I leave you alone for five damned minutes," Bucky says angrily - and he's not angry, not at all, he's just scared as fuck because it's like Clint finds new ways to hurt himself every time, and Bucky can't be with him every moment. Even if he’d like to.

Bucky jerks up from the couch like it's on fire, and marches toward the freezer, from which he gets a bag of peas. Then he pours two mugs of coffee and takes everything to Clint. Bucky lets the iced bag fall on Clint's lap and passes him one cup without a word. Clint accepts it and takes a sip even if it's cold and morning old. Bucky sits near him and drinks, not knowing what else to say.

It's almost evening, by now, and Bucky really doesn't need to stay there, but doesn't want to leave. He likes staying there, with Clint, even if they don't talk or do anything.

"Hey, move," Clint says, after what has looked like an hour. Bucky slides an inch and Clint kicks his shoes away, puts his feet under Bucky's thighs and starts a Mario Kart game on the tv, passing one joypad at the other.

"Loser pays for dinner," he says and Bucky smiles and nods.

"Deal," Bucky agrees and it's Clint turn to smile, with a little bit of a grin.

"I hope you have enough money, cause I'm really hungry."

"Yeah, let's see if you can beat me, first." 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big big big BIG thank you to my beta, GingerEnvy. You are amazing and I will cover you in cats and pastries.   
> A hug and a chocolate bar to Stateira, my double check on my life. Love you, even when you kick me in the night.

Waking up at Clint’s is nothing new. Bucky perfectly knows what it means to sleep on that couch, with the light of the sun hitting his eyes through the kitchen window. He is familiar with the smell of fresh coffee, and Lucky’s whines when he needs to go out, or Natasha’s voice telling Clint to not drink directly from the pot, and not giving pizza to Lucky and cook something to eat for Bucky. 

But this time, something is different. 

The sunlight is there, coming through the window, lighting up all the room. The fresh coffee releases its heavenly smell, waking him up like usual. But there are no Natasha’s voice, no Lucky’s whine, no Clint’s cooking for him eggs and bacon and microwaved pizza. There is no rough fiber under his cheek, no dog fur in his nostrils. Instead, there is a heartbeat under his ear, soft fiber that smells of soap and coffee under his touch, and a gentle hand into his hair. 

Bucky opens his eyes and blinks, trying to breathe without waking the man under him up, and rises carefully his head to give a look. Clint is, luckily, asleep, still with the bag of peas, thawed by now, on his face. A solitary drop slides across Clint’s neck, dying in the collar of his t-shirt. Bucky looks at that little trail of water and swallows, thirsty. 

Fuck.

He tries to make a little space between them, but Clint’s hand in his hair pushes him against his chest. One leg closes around his side and Bucky feels the desire of touching the other man hitting his stomach. Clint shifts under him, stretching his muscles, and Bucky breathes in his throat. Fuck, he wants to  _ touch  _ him. He wants to feel what it means to have Clint’s skin under his fingers, he wants to see Clint shaking for his touch. He wants to pull those clothes away and find his way on that body, to know what it’s like to kiss that mouth, to learn Clint’s taste and let Clint do whatever he wants to do to him. 

Bucky tries to think about the face Clint would make if he’d covered one of his nipples with his lips and sucked it till it became swollen. Would Clint’s eyes become big and shiny? Would he be quiet or would he ask for more? Bucky can almost feel the rough texture of the shirt under his tongue and he bites his bottom lip to not do what he wants to do. 

Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ , he needs to get away from there. 

His metal hand climbs up on Clint’s chest and the thumb brushes against the nipple carefully. Clint shifts and sighs silently, and Bucky tightens his grip a little bit on the nipple, until he knows it’s painful. And Clint wakes up screaming in pain. 

“Ow ow  _ ow _ ! Fuck, man!” Clint pushes him away with his feet. “The hell is wrong with you? Is this the way to wake someone up?” He rubs down his sore nipple and kicks Bucky on his right flesh shoulder. 

“Next time, let me move,” Bucky says with a grin that is less confident that he intended. Then  _ Beautiful Danger _ starts to play. From the floor. 

“Wait, it’s Natasha,” Clint looks around and swears under his breath. “Have you see my phone somewhere?”

“Hold on,” Bucky says and reaches to take the phone from under the little table next to the couch. Next thing he knows, a strangling pain between his ass cheeks makes him jump. 

“ _ Fuck _ !” He screams, throwing the phone against Clint, who’s laughing. “Fuck, what are you, twelve?” Bucky yells, pulling his underwear off from his buttocks, and Clint gives him the finger while answering the phone. 

Bucky gets up, takes the two empty mugs and goes to find the fresh, still good smelling coffee. It’s on the kitchen counter, still warm, and the LED clock on the bottom of the machine says READY in a blinking yellow. 

Bucky refills the mugs and takes a sip from his, before giving the other to Clint, who’s still at the phone, murmuring something in what he’s pretty sure is Russian. 

Right. 

He often forgets that Clint is a Top Class Agent in a Special Unit of a Special Organization that works out from the legal way. He’s a dork for Bucky, a beautiful, ridiculous dork who makes everything better with his sole presence. But still a dork. 

“ _ Da _ . Yeah, okay,” Clint closes the call and sighs. “I have to go.”

“Mission?” Bucky asks, while the other is moving around from the couch to his room looking for who knows what. 

“Nah, briefing,” Clint answers, slipping out from the t-shirt, and throwing it on a chair. The view of Clint shoulders hits Bucky straight in the chest. Bucky’s breath stops its way up from his throat - and he asks to himself how old he is, ‘cause it’s not acceptable that he behaves like a teenager with his first crush. Bucky’s twenty-seven, and an ex Delta Force sniper. He went to war and looked Death in the eyes, thank you very much. 

“Don’t you shower?” The words leave Bucky’s mouth before he can understand  _ what _ he’s saying - and he gives himself a mental punch because  _ what the fuck, man _ ?

Clint stops while putting on a white button down shirt. “It’s already enough that I agree to put on a shirt and a tie, I will not wash for them,” Clint says, grouchy. “I hate briefings.”

“Yeah, me too,” Bucky says and then, when Clint looks perplexed, adds: “I mean... in the Army. Always hated briefings. Steve forced me to go with him every time. I think he had a boner for ordering me around, the punk.”

Clint laughs and Bucky does the same, less amused and more tense. Fuck, why is he so tense? Clint passes a hand through his hair, with the face of someone who’s willing to say something but can’t find the words.  

“I think I’ll go,” Bucky blurts out, ‘cause the nervousness has already eaten his stomach and now is attacking his chest. 

“Yeah. Thanks for... you know,” Clint points at his nose and shrugs, and Bucky shrugs too. 

“You would have done the same for me,” he says. Clint nods and smiles again - and again the time feels like it’s ready to stop, for a while at least. It’s always like that when Clint smiles. 

Clint’s phone notifies a message incoming with a  _ bop _ , and Bucky’s heart keeps beating too fast for no reason. He hates it.  

“Okay... I really have to go, now,” Clint says, picking up a black tie abandoned on the table for who knows how much time. 

“Yeah, sure. I’ll see you tonight?” And it’s okay if Bucky’s voice is less confident than he thought. By now, he’s embarrassed himself so much that some more will not kill him. Clint blinks, and for a fraction of time he seems surprised. Then he smiles, almost grin, and nods. 

“Yeah, see you tonight.”

Something in Bucky’s chest screams, panicking. With a final nod, Bucky gets out from the flat and Clint closes the door, leaving the other man alone on the landing with a big, red question in his mind. 

_ What the actual fuck has just happened?  _

Did... Did Clint  _ realise _ ? Did he make himself ridiculous and made everything awkward for the two of them? Fuck. Fuck, why is he acting like  _ Steve _ ? Where the hell has Bucky’s self confidence gone? 

All the way back to his apartment, Bucky thinks about that morning, about Clint’s warm body, about the way he shifted when Bucky caressed his nipple. How all of that seemed natural for him to do, even if... even if it’s not exactly normal for two pals being so close. But that’s the beauty of Clint. He doesn’t care about normal and social etiquette and always makes Bucky feel free to do whatever he wants to. 

And Bucky had just ruined everything being weird and awkward. Fuck, at this point there is only one thing to do, he thinks, leaning his head against the front door of his own apartment. 

He opens the door, already convinced to kill himself and put an end to his miserable condition. 

“Hey, big guy,” Tony waves at him without looking away from the newspaper. Then he does it, with a eyebrow rising up. “Wait,  _ have _ you become a big guy?”

“Fuck you,” is Bucky’s answer, which makes Tony’s other eyebrow going up to its sister. 

“Okay, no, got it.”

Steve comes out from his bedroom, putting on a blue shirt and stops. 

“Oh, hey. You’re back,” he says, with what Bucky feels is too much surprise. 

“I live here, of course I’m back.”

“Our James didn’t score, last night,” Tony warns, and Bucky tries really hard to not punch him, but fails. “Ouch!” Tony whines, after Bucky hits him on the shoulder. 

“I’m taking a shower, hope you two find a change of subject for when I come back.” Bucky locks himself in the bathroom and goes straight under the shower, pulling his clothes off along the way. 

The hot water rains on him pleasantly, making his muscles melt and his flesh go all red and hot - like Clint‘s skin under his hands this morning. 

He can’t stop thinking about how he had woken up, how Clint’s body under his was the best way to wake up, how easy and familiar it would have been to kiss him and caress him and just be what he wants to be for Clint. 

But truth is, Clint doesn’t like him back, not in the way Bucky wants, and those stupid feelings will only make everything more complicated and ruin everything between them. 

Suddenly, Bucky turns the water on cold and stays under it for a long time, trying to shake those feelings away. When he turns off the water, he feels better, but not perfectly fine. It’s okay, he just needs a little more time to forget and then everything will be fine, Clint and him will be friends again, and there will be nothing awkward and weird anymore between them. Everything will be perfect, he can do it. 

In the kitchen, Steve and Tony are still talking. Not about him, apparently, but they stop anyway the instant he comes in. He’s still wet and covered with the only clean towel he’s found in the bathroom. 

“We need to do the laundry,” he says, removing the wet hair from his face. 

“You’re leaking on the floor,” is Steve’s answer. Bucky ignores him and goes to find some coffee. He definitely needs more coffee. 

“Was it that bad?” Tony asks in a whisper to Steve, but yeah, Bucky hears him, of course he does. 

“Why are you still here? Don’t you have something to do? Industries to run, hi-tech to invent, islands to buy?”

Tony laughs, because he’s an idiot and loves Bucky even when Bucky doesn’t love him back. “Who’s telling you that I’m not doing all of it while we’re talking? I’m a multitasking man, you know?” Tony says with a wink that makes Steve blush and Bucky question himself whether this is something he doesn’t want to know about their sex life. Knowing Tony, the answer is  _ yes _ . “Plus, this is the only place I know that still gets the newspaper door-to-door. Like the good old days,” he adds, opening the paper on the table in front of him. Only in that moment, Bucky notices a picture of Tony, caught while he was coming out from his Stark Tower with Pepper and some other minions. 

“Since when does the New York Times write about your love life?” Bucky asks, looking at the headline.  _ “Are they back in love?” _ it says, all big, black and in capslock. 

“Since I named Pepper my CEO,” Tony answers. “But, they’re all still in love with Steve, see? Nothing to worry about.” And, in fact, Bucky can read how, at the end of the article, there’s a sentence that says:  _ Safe sources confirm that nothing has changed between Mr. Stark and the ghostly Captain Handsome and that soon, finally, the mysterious Savior Man of Stark Industries, will be presented to the world. _

“Captain Handsome?”

“He doesn’t want the press to have his name,” Tony says, and it’s clear that he’s not happy about it. It must be an old discussion between the two of them, because Steve rolls his eyes and sighs. 

“I just think it’s too soon.”

“It’s been two years, almost.”

“Yeah, well, I’d prefer that you think about it a little more. Just to be sure.”

There is a moment of silence between them, and Bucky understands that it’s time to go away and leave his friends to their relationship problems. Last thing he hears is the chair scraping on the floor and Tony murmuring “I’m not changing my mind, Steve. Not now, not ever.”, then Bucky closes the door of his room behind his back and leaves the wet towel at his feet. 

  
  
  


______________

 

The night is quiet, almost boring. There are some customers, most of them are regulars and Steve had sex that morning, so he’s relaxed and happy even if Tony had come in with Loki, that shady guy he’s friends with. He and Steve do not really like each other, but they’re both being polite for Tony, apparently. 

“Hey, why are you here all alone? Come and sit with us!” Clint approaches the counter bar with a smile and a half empty pint. 

“I’m working, you know?” 

“Yeah, I see how you’re working. The last two clients that tried to come inside ran away from your beautiful and welcoming smile.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything, because Clint is right and the night seems to never end.  _ What the hell _ , Bucky thinks, and takes his pint before coming out from his spot behind the draft beers. 

Sitting at their table, with the others, is strange and familiar, and even though Steve looks not really amused, he doesn't care. He’s got his beer, his friends and Clint is sitting next to him and smiles. 

“Will they be like this all the time? ‘Cause I’ve already had enough,” Loki’s words are full of annoying aristocracy and Bucky is pretty sure the guy has nothing to do with the aristocracy. 

“Watch your mouth, Robocop here has got the key to our champagne,” Tony says, his eyes still on his Stark Phone screen. 

Loki looks unimpressed, but takes a sip from his flute. “I thought you were the boss here.”

At that, Tony’s eyes finally pop up and meet the others. “Oh, I’m not the boss. He’s the boss,” he says, pointing at Steve, who’s smiling and saying goodbye to some customers. “I just make everything looks better. With my charm.”

Loki snorts, not impressed at all. 

Next to him, Sam laughs. “Charm and fixing things, right.”

They see Steve locking the door behind the last customer and calling it a night. 

“Okay, time to clean up. Darcy, will you go and take a look at the bathroom? I’ll do the other room.”

“Yes, boss!” 

“Bucky--”

“Fuck off, Steve.”

“Bucky. Can you clean the counter and the beer spot? Please?”

Bucky sighs and closes his eyes. “After my beer,” he agrees and Steve nods and disappears into the next room. “Come on, BUDD-E,” he calls, and the tiny roomba follows him with a significant  _ cirp _ . That thing is almost two years old and still pretty in love with Steve - but maybe that’s because Tony build it and it just fell for Steve like its creator. 

It’s relaxing, staying like that, with the others all around the table. Tony takes half a minute to decide to go and molesting Steve, Loki is reading something really important on his Stark Phone and Sam... Well, Bucky doesn’t care where Sam is, right now. 

“ _ So honey now, _ ” Clint starts singing, looking at the wood under his finger. Bucky, next to him, turns his head and meets Clint’s eyes-- and fuck, bad idea. There’s always been something in Clint’s voice that makes Bucky shake from his head to his feet. It’s like Clint can touch some spot into Bucky’s soul that makes him want to kneel before him and  _ do something _ .  __ “ _ Take me into your lovin’ arm- _ ” Clint’s voice goes down and throws away the final “-s”, and Bucky’s human hand grips around the almost cold pint.

“ _ Kiss me under the light of thousand stars. Place your head on my beating heart, _ ” 

Nope. He can’t do that. 

Bucky runs away. He jumps on his feet and starts to collect the empty pints on the table, and even Loki’s flute, definitely not empty yet. 

“Hey, I was drinking that!”

“Who the fuck picked this shit? Hey, Darcy! Darcy, change it and pick something else!”

Darcy’s head pops out from the bathroom. “Not a chance, Bucky. I like this song.” And saying that, she raises the volume. 

“I’m your fucking boss!”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

“Change that shit!”

“Bucky, cut out the swearing!” Steve orders out loud from the other room. 

Bucky grunts and swears under his breath. “There are no fucking customers, Steve, so I can fucking swear as much as I like!”

“Okay, well, put one hundred bucks into the jar and you can swear for one straight hour.”

“Fuck you and your jar!”

Steve looks at him, more angry at every word, but Bucky doesn’t care. Fuck, he can probably swear for a straight week, at this point. 

“Hey, sorry to interrupt you two lovebirds, but I think this is more important,” Sam intrudes and shows Steve’s phone in his hand. It’s ringing and it takes Bucky one look at Steve to know that the quarrel is over. 

“It’s not over, Bucky,” Steve says, pointing at him. Then takes the phone from Sam and thanks him, before answering. 

“You need to get laid.” Darcy’s whispered words hit Bucky right in the face and make him look at Clint, who’s looking back at him from the table. His frowning eyebrows showing all his confusion, and that makes Bucky feel a little bit guilty. ‘Cause clearly Clint is clueless and Bucky is just acting weird - again - and being rude with the other true friend he has. 

He tries to smile to Clint and when the man rises up an eyebrow in a silent question -  _ Is everything fine? _ \- Bucky shrugs and nods -  _ Yeah, sure _ . 

“Oh my God,” Steve says, closing the call and turning the attention on himself. “ _ Oh my fucking God! _ ” He almost screams, and every head in the group turned to him. 

“Did he swear? Like, for real?” Darcy asks and Tony almost grins. 

“He can swear. In fact, he’s  _ hot _ when he does.”

“Who was it that made  _ you _ swear?” Sam sounds concerned, ‘cause, yes, Steve  _ can _ swear, but he  _ doesn’t want to _ , and that makes the real difference between him and the rest of the world. 

“Coulson.”

“Hey, I know he can be a little difficult, but he’s not that bad.” Clint tries to defend his boss, but Steve shakes his head. 

“It’s not him. I mean... He called to give me a news that will change our lives and the entire sport world forever.” 

Sam raises an eyebrow. “I think you’re overreacting.” 

But Steve seems to be on another planet. “Thor Odinson just left the Patriots. He’s in New York right now, he will playing for the Giants, now! For  _ us _ !” 

The news is welcomed by an uncertain and unattractive silence, and Steve makes a frustrated noise. “Come on, guys! It’s Thor! You cannot not know the best offensive lineman of the last fifty years!”

Steve’s phone  _ chirps _ for a message. He looks at the screen and his face goes white. 

“What’s that face, now?” Sam asks.

“He’s coming here.”

Clint frowns. “Coulson? Coulson’s coming here?”

“No. No,  _ Thor Odinson _ ! He’s coming here!”

“Yeah, you just said that, Steve,” Sam tries, slowly, but Steve waves him off. 

“No, he’s coming here. Right here, to the pub. Right now.  _ Why is he coming here _ ? Oh my God, we need to clean everything! Everything!”

“Steve has a huge crush on this Thor guy,” Bucky explains to the perplexed faces of their friends. 

Tony looks almost amused. “Do I need to be jealous? Because, you know, I could  _ buy  _ this Thor guy, if I wanted.”

“Shut up, Tony. It’s no--” Steve’s words get stuck in his throat when someone tries to open the locked door. Darcy is there to unlock it before anyone else can do anything. 

“Don’t!” Loki whispers and sits still, bleach white in the face, while the others look at the door. 

Thor Odinson, the - former, apparently - offensive lineman of the New England Patriots, comes inside in all his majesty. 

And, fuck, he’s big. 

Everything is silent in the pub, so Thor’s steps almost echo in the room. It’s Steve that makes the first move, offering his hand to shake. 

“Mister Odinson, it’s an honor. I’m a really, really big fan and, I have to say, I’m really glad you decided to come and play with us.  _ For  _ us. For the Giants.” 

Thor shakes Steve’s hand without even looking at him. He just smiles at Steve for a fraction of a second, like it’s a natural response, and then turns his glare to the others on the table. 

“It’s been a long time, Loki,” are Thor’s first words, when, finally, Steve lets him go. 

Loki is bleach white and still like a salt statue, and Bucky is not even sure he’s breathing. Tony, next to him, makes a step and slides between his friend and the player. “Thor Odinson, you really are... well,  _ here _ . How did you find this place?” he asks, shaking the other man’s hand with a smile that Bucky has seen only once on him - two years ago, when Tony was broken and Pepper begged him to do something to take the Stark Industries back from Stane’s hands. It’s a nervous and fake smile, one that hides more emotion that Tony wants to show. 

Thor half grins and looks straight into Loki’s eyes. “I have my sources.”

“Well, looks like your sources took a lot of time to do their job,” Loki’s voice is raspy and uneven. “Why are you here, Thor?”

“Why, I’m here for you,” is Thor’s answer. He’s frowning, like he doesn’t understand the question. “What else if not for you?” Thor takes another step and Tony is forced to get away, letting him come close to the table. In response, Loki tries to hide himself in the wall behind him. 

“I looked everywhere for you. For years, I’ve tried to find which hole were you hiding in.”

“I’m not hiding in a damn hole,” Loki’s voice is low and cold, and when the other tries to touch his hand, he retracts like it’s on fire. 

“Don’t even think about touching me, Thor. The last time you did is the main reason why I’m here”.

Thor seems hurt by Loki’s words. There’s a cold and tense atmosphere in the pub, now, and nobody dare say anything. 

“So, you guys know each other?” Clint tries to break in. 

“Of course we do, Loki’s my brother,” Thor says without losing the precious eye-contact he somehow managed to maintain with him. 

Steve coffs. “Wha-your brother? A-I didn’t… How...” 

“He’s leaving, now,” Loki says firmly. “He’s going back to damned Massachusetts and never showing his sorry ass here again.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay here with you.  _ For _ you,” And this time, when Thor tries to touch him, Loki jumps on his feet. 

“Oh yes, now you stay. Of course. You want to stay, so you just do. And what  _ I _ want doesn’t matter, right?” Loki marches straight to the other side of the room, trying to put as much space between them as he can. 

“What do you mean? Of course it matters, I care about you. I--” Thor stops and bites the words he clearly wants to say. 

“You  _ what _ , mh? You-You care about me but couldn’t even write down a damn message before leaving? You couldn’t call me or, hell,  _ wake me up _ before leaving?” Loki is upset and his voice raises more and more at every word until it cracks and breaks down. “I woke up alone, in your bed,” he says -- and oh Jesus Fucking Christ. “I woke up and you were gone!”

“But I had to leave for the pre-season!”

“Go to hell, you and your pre-season!”

After that, there is only silence. A cold and shocked silence. Bucky dares to look at the others, hoping to find that he misunderstood everything and that two  _ brothers _ aren’t talking about what he thinks they are. 

“Oh my God, I’m so happy I didn’t leave early this time,” Darcy whispers next to him. 

“Honestly, I’d rather not to be here, right now,” Clint says, instead, and Sam nods, too. The only one that doesn’t do anything is Steve, who’s pale as a sheet and looks like a child who just found his ma’ having sex with Santa Claus on his Christmas’ presents.

“Just to be clear, they’re not really brothers,” Tony breaks the awkward moment. 

“That doesn’t makes anything better,” is Clint response, and after that Sam adds: 

“But explains why they don’t look alike at all. I mean...  _ look at them. _ ”

“This thing gets better and better. It’s like a soap opera,” Darcy says. “But now I think I need some popcorn. Why don’t we have popcorn?”

“Shut up, Darcy,” Bucky growls. 

“You shut up.”

Bucky pulls her hair slightly and she punches him on the metal shoulder. 

“Loki,” Thor’s voice is quiet and unsure, but when his brother looks at him, his eyes are full of hope. “Can we talk? I don’t want to lose you again.”

“Well, you should have thought about it before. Now it’s too late” And saying that, Loki walks past his brother and reaches for the exit. The sound of the door closed behind him marks the end of the discussion and Thor let himself fall on the wooden bench. It’s like seeing a lost, giant puppy, abandoned on the side of the street. It’s heartbreaking. 

“I have to say, I’ve kinda missed your dramas,” Tony sits next to Thor, his face showing how much he’s annoyed by all of that. 

Thor raises his head and glares at him. “You. I thought we were friends, Anthony.”

“We are.”

“Then why haven’t you told me? All these years, and you never told me where Loki was.”

“That was none of my business. Or yours.” 

“He is my brother!”

“Yes. And he made a choice,” Tony sighs and rubs his eyes.  “Look, I found him by pure chance, after years, and I thought the best option was to just keep him safe. Even if it was from you.”

“Oh my God,” Steve’s words break in like a lightning. “They’re  _ them _ !” he almost screams. “They’re  _ those two brothers _ you told me about! From the MIT!”

And okay, what? 

“Who?” Sam asks, as perplexed as Bucky and the others. Well, at least they’re on the same boat. Only in that moment, Steve understands that no one knows about that story and looks guiltily at Tony, who sighs again. 

“You talked about us?” Thor doesn’t even look hurt anymore, he’s just tired and sad. 

“Not exactly. I never told anything specific, and Steve didn’t know who you were and what happened between the two of you before you came in here shouting it from the rooftops.”  That makes Thor blush and then laugh a little bit. “I made a mess, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, quite so. But it’s okay, that’s why you’re my favorite. Always have been.” Tony smiles and Thor smiles back. 

“More than Loki? You two are friends.”

“It’s more like we help each other. We’re partners in crime, you could say.”

“I’m sorry, but I need to know,” Darcy puts herself into the conversation. “What happened? I need to know! I can’t live without knowing!”

Thor makes a sort of resigned gesture to the group. “I did not go to MIT. I won a scholarship in football for the USC, in Southern California. Loki and Tony went there for, what, a couple of years together?”

“Actually, just one. He came in when he was twelve and I got out at seventeen. They put us together because they wanted me to help him blend in.” 

“Not a smart move,” Clint says, and Tony laughs. 

“Yeah, well, we made beautiful code, though.”

“Anyway,” Thor resume telling, “Loki was adopted when he was ten or something, and after some time my father understood his potential, and signed him up for college. We spent just a year or so under the same roof, as boys, and after he moved to Massachusetts, we didn’t see each other very much. Just for Christmas, when he came back for holidays. Then I moved to college myself, and we saw each other even less, until The Patriots called me.”

The six of them are quiet, hanging onto the words from Thor’s lips like he’s damn Sherazad. “At that point, Loki was working for a company there in Boston, and I was like  _ Hey, cool, now we can hang out together! _ And we did, for a while. Then...” Thor sighs and closes his eyes. “Look, I really don’t care what you think, or if you’ll judge us for what we did. It was the happiest moment of my life. It was just me and him and, for one night, I saw him as happy as I was. The morning after, I left with the team and when I came back he was gone. Vanished.”

“I found him some time after that,” Tony starts. “A couple of years after, or maybe something more. He was in a federal jail for cloning some credit cards. My credit cards. So, long story short, I pulled him out of the jail and gave him a safe and respectable job, in exchange for his, you know, services.”

Darcy’s eyes go wide. “What? You fucked him? You screwed Odinson’s brother?”

And Tony’s eyes go even wider. “Wha-What are you-no! Christ, no, I meant his services as a hacker! His knowledge.”

“But you didn’t call me. I asked you to help me find him and when you did, you didn’t call me.” Thor points out.

“He didn’t want to see you. He didn’t even want to talk about you. You were so much off limits I couldn’t even think about you in his presence.”

Thor sighs, frustrated. “I don’t know what to do. I thought... When I saw him, this morning, I thought it was finally over and--”

“What? You saw him this morning? Where?”

“Oh, there was a picture in the Times.”

“Tony’s picture?” Sam asks. 

“Yeah. And Loki was behind him.” 

Tony takes his phone out of the jacket and finds the picture that had appeared on the newspaper. “Look, here,” Thor says, pointing to the right corner. 

Tony zooms in and tilts his head. “God, you’re right. Good job, Sherlock,” he congratulates, patting on his big shoulder. Thor smiles at him, but it’s a sad smile. 

“Let me get this straight,” Steve breaks in, almost shocked. “You saw your brother by chance on a newspaper, and you decided there and then to leave the Patriots and come to New York, blowing the whole NFL up?”

Thor shrugs his shoulders like it’s nothing. “But he doesn’t want to talk to me,” he whines. 

“He will, you know it, right? Now he’s just scared, you didn’t give him the time to prepare himself, and you know how much he hates being unprepared. Give him some time and he’ll listen to you, eventually,” Tony offers, just to cheer him up. 

Thor’s smile becomes a little bigger and brighter as he puts one hand on Tony’s shoulder, in a fraternal touch. and Jesus, his hands are massive. “You really are a good friend, Anthony.” 

Tony doesn’t say anything but gives him a little, dry smile. 

“Okay, I’m calling it a night,” Bucky says, shaking everyone from the stasis. 

“Do you have a place for the night?” Tony asks to Thor, who nods. 

“Yes. Jane booked me a room at the Ritz.”

“Of course she did, your ever efficient super manager. I bet she gave you your room number while cursing and swearing all the way to hell and back.”

Thor stands up and takes a deep breath. “I think I owe you an apology,” he says, running one hand through his hair. “I rushed here with all my drama and my issues--”

“Hey hey, no, you don’t need to,” Tony interrupts, patting him on his back -- well, on his kidneys. 

“Tony’s right. You don’t need to apologise. It’s okay,” Steve says. Thor smiles and nods gratefully. “Goodnight, then,” He says before leaving. 

Once the door is closed again, Tony speaks: “I know I can trust all of you, but how do they say? Better safe than sorry? This night, this... thing, has never happened.” 

It’s easy to understand why, so nobody says a word as they all leave the pub. Steve is the only one who stays inside to close the cash. Out, the air is a little cold and Bucky tightens his shoulders. Next to him, Clint yawns and scratches his head. 

“Fuck, what a night.”

Bucky snorts. “You said it. I think Steve is traumatized for good.” 

Clint laughs, quiet and low, and breathes with closed eyes. “Do you want--”

“Hey, Clint, need a ride?” Sam interrupts, tingling the key of his car from his fingers, and Bucky want to scream. Once again, Clint laughs, but this time it’s more private, like some joke between him and himself. 

“Yeah, give me a minute,” he says and sighs. 

“What were you saying?” 

“Nothing. It’s... I mean. I need to know if I have to wait for you to see the last DC movie.”

Oh, of course. Bucky is an idiot and needs to stop hoping for something that clearly is out of his way. 

“What, Wonder Woman?”

“Yep.”

“Of course you have to wait for me, you jackass.”

“Okay, okay, no need to be rude,” Clint pushes him and takes a few steps away. “Thursday night?”

“Thursday night,” Bucky confirms. Clint reaches Sam, waiting in his car, with a final nod for Bucky. Then, they leave, leaving Bucky on the sidewalk, a few steps away from Tony and Darcy. 

“Do you need a ride, kid?” Tony asks Darcy and she shakes her head.

“Nah, I’m good, I’ll take the subway, it’s just two stops.” 

They stay silent for a while, waiting for Steve to show up and declare it’s time to go home for them too. 

“... You did fuck him though, didn’t you? Loki,” Darcy asked nonchalantly, out of the blue. 

If Tony is taken aback, he doesn't show. “This is none of your business miss Darcy.”

“Oh, you sooooo did.” 

“It’s written all over your face,” Bucky adds. 

“Yes, well, it was a moment of weakness from both parties, I’ll admit. Couple of moments. Maybe four. Or nine. But since I really, and I mean really value my life, and I plan on spending it with Steve for many, healthy years…”

“We better not tell Thor.”

“You better not.”

“Like, never, ever, ever tell him. Ever. Like, drag this to our graves. And bury it deeper than ourselves.”

“I see you get it, girl.”

“Your life is in my hands, Stark. God I can feel the power.”

“Hey, let him pay for your scholar debt.”

“That’s... Not a bad idea,” Tony admits, but Darcy shakes her head. 

“You’re not getting away so easily with it.”

Tony laughs, his head tilted back. “Fair enough. I’ll find something else.”

Darcy nods and grins, and then makes two steps away from them. “Okay, I gotta go. Tomorrow I won’t be at work, do you remember that, right?”

Bucky just shrugs. “Yeah, the... something test, eh.”

Darcy grins a little more. “The something test, yes. Perfect. Okay, old men, good night!” Darcy runs across the street and takes the stairs to the underground. Tony and Bucky just stay where they are, looking at the bright light of the moon, and waiting for Steve. It’s quiet and familiar, and reminds Bucky of two years ago, when Tony had just a fancy suit and one Rolex. He used it to pay for the first dinner the three of them had together, just a day after they met. Bucky had it cleared by then that he just wanted to impress Steve, but made a really bad call with the Rolex thing, and it took Steve three days to forgive him. 

“I love him. Steve, you know? I love Steve. I really do,” Tony starts out of the blue, like he’s reading his mind.

“I know, pal.” 

“I mean... He's smart, and funny and oh so righteous it’s embarrassing.”

“And the fact that he is all tall, blonde and gorgeous it's just a happy coincidence?”

Tony laughs. “Well, yeah. He's gorgeous, but I would love him even if he still was the skinny, short dude from High School. I saw some pictures, he was adorable.”

“He was stubborn as hell, yeah, you would have loved him even then.”

“And one day, I will marry him, not matter what,” Tony adds, like Bucky never spoke. Bucky looks at him for a moment, surprised. It’s not that he doesn’t believe in Tony’s words, but he never thought he’d say it out loud to someone who’s not Steve. 

“I won't tell him anything. But, just so you know, I don't think he would care about Loki.” 

“He already thinks he's not enough for me. He keeps saying I could have better.” 

“He can be an idiot.”

“Yes. And I don't want him worrying about something stupid.” 

Bucky does not reply, just nods. It's okay, Tony is a good man, the perfect one for Steve. 

Behind them, the door opens and Steve comes out, yawning. 

“Everything’s good?” Tony asks and Steve nods, hugging Tony’s shoulder with one arm. “Let’s go home, come on.”

Steve doesn’t need to be told twice, the two of them start walking. Bucky looks at them, at their hands laced together, their shoulders brushing at every step and  _ that _ , that is what he wants too. That’s what Bucky wants. And will never have, not with Clint. Probably not with anybody.

“Hey, you coming?” Steve calls to him with a smile and Bucky nods, increasing the pace. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, let me kiss and thank my beta, GingerEnvy, and my Stateira. You guys are really the best ♥

Thursday comes quickly. It’s Bucky’s day off and he just spends the whole day sleeping and ignoring the world outside his apartment. He thinks about going to get a churro or something to satisfy his sweet tooth, but decides to send an imploring text to Steve, ‘cause Bucky’s still in his underwear and has no intention of getting dressed. It’s hot outside, and even hotter inside the house. The sun hits their windows for most of the day, turning their apartment into a furnace. 

“Get dressed, Buck.”

“Bite me, Stevie.”

Steve closes the door and throws the churro at Bucky, who takes it and eats it in less than a second. 

“God, finally,” Bucky stretches himself on the couch and gives the churro another bite, and Steve looks at him with his mama hen face. 

“That isn’t the first thing you’ve eaten all day, right?” 

Bucky takes a very long time to swallow before giving him an answer - and that makes Steve’s eyebrow go up. “Bucky.”

“What? I had coffee and orange juice.” 

Steve sighs and clings to the root of his nose. “Why--You two are children.”

“Two?”

“You and Tony.”

“Hey! I am nothing like Tony!” Bucky protests and Steve laughs. 

“Yeah, sure,” He pats Bucky’s head and Bucky gives him the finger, before going back to eating his churro. 

“Going out, tonight?” Steve asks nonchalantly. 

“Why?”

“Nothing. Just wondering.”

“Will I find a sock on the door handle at my return?”

Steve blushes but doesn’t blink nor deny. Adorable, really. Tony will eat him whole with enormous pleasure, in every possible way, and Bucky has kind of protective, mixed feelings about it. “Okay, just don’t do gross things in the kitchen,” He adds, leaving the couch to go and find some clean clothes to put on. 

Bucky headed to Clint’s apartment, ten minutes from Bucky’s, and he leaves the building with a strange feeling biting his stomach. It’s not the first time they’ve gone out together - fuck, that’s why Sam keeps joking about it - but, strangely, this day feels different. Maybe it’s that weird nervousness he felt between them in the last week or maybe it’s just him being pathetically hopeful. 

_ If I find your underwear in the sink again I will kill you in your sleep, _ Bucky texts to Tony, while walking. He puts his phone away but then pulls it out again to add:  _ And try not to be too loud, last time neighborhoods complained _ .

Tony’s reply is just a thumb up emoticon, followed by  _ You too _ , and Bucky asks himself if the idiot has at least read the message or he’s just being a jackass. Probably both. 

It’s still hot on the streets, but the sun has started to go down, finally, so breathing seems less difficult.

A bark behind him makes Bucky turn to see Lucky running happily toward him. 

“Hey, buddy,” A strange smell hits Bucky when Lucky tries to jump on him. “What the--”

“Lucky! Get down! Bad dog!” Clint pops out from nowhere and pulls Lucky by the collar to hold him still. 

“Is he covered in--”

“Poop? Yes. ‘Cause he’s a bad, bad dog! No! No, Don’t kiss me, you dirty dog!” Lucky doesn’t seem to care too much about Clint’s reprimanding and tries one more time to lick his owner, on the forearm this time. “No means no, Lucky. Learn about consent,” Clint eyes the dog again, as he starts to walk. “I’m sorry, I think I need to wash him right away, or Natasha will kill me and then be angry at him, and I won’t be able to come see Wonder Woman, because I’ll be, well, dead and bleeding on the floor.” 

Bucky shrugs and falls to step next to them. “It’s okay, we can go to the later show” He thinks about it just a moment, and then adds: “Hey, we could even go and grab something to eat, first. It’s on me.”

Clint looks at him and grins, licking his own lips. “Deal. I want hot dogs.”

“Really? I said it’s on me and you just want a hot dog?”

“I didn’t said  _ a hot dog _ , I said  _ hot dogs _ . Plural.”

“Yeah? How many, then?”

“I’ll tell you when to stop.”

Bucky laughs out loud as Clint pulls the keys out from his jeans to open the door. 

“Okay, buddy, now you’ll get a nice, deep bath, okay? No whining or Natasha will be mad at you. And me. She will be mad at the both of us, so, bath. Now.” Saying that, Clint opens the door of his apartment and lets the three of them in. “Natasha will kick your sorry, furry ass and I won’t try to stop her. No sir, not this time,” he continues, leading the dog across the kitchen and the living room to the bath door and the bathtub. “Okay, jump,” he commands, but Lucky, the bastard, sits instead, and looks at him with his one big, brown eye and his wagging tail. Clint sighs and Bucky laughs. “Come on, buddy, you’re embarrassing me,” Clint goes inside the tub and pulls the dog with him. 

“Do you need help?” Bucky asks, still laughing. 

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Too bad I don’t want to help, then. It’s too funny.”

“Fucky you,” Clint starts the water and Lucky finally stays still while his owner washes him. Bucky stares at them with a grin on his lips, while Clint talks to Lucky and tells him how much of a bad dog he is -- and then Lucky jumps on Clint and Clint falls on his ass and can’t stop the dog from licking all over his face. 

“Aw, Lucky no!” Clint yells, but Lucky keeps licking him, so Clint pushes the dog away firmly, and only in that moment Bucky takes in the wet clothes on Clint body and... fuck.

“I have to make a call,” he blurts out and walks out of the room.

Bucky goes into the kitchen, takes a slow breath, and pulls his phone out from his pocket. He stares at the black mirror, not sure of what to do. He’s never felt like this before, never been a damn idiot in front of some wet crush. In fact, he usually used the wet thing to  _ do something _ . Wet clothes are the best to make a move, to create that intimacy to let the things move on. 

"Fuck" he sighs. Natasha opens the door in that exact moment and they just look at each other for a long second.

"Why are you here? Weren’t you supposed to be at the movies?" Is Natasha's confused greeting, and Bucky nods.

"Yeah, but we had a... setback."

"Okay, done!" Clint screams from the bathroom. Next thing that happens is that Clint comes out of the bathroom, shirtless and with a towel on his face. "My ass is still wet, but fuck, I don't care."

Natasha's eyebrow goes up and looks at Bucky, now less confused and more hopeful. Then Clint cleans his eyes and notices his best friend. "Hey, you're back. Hi. Why are you back?" he asks and, magically, Natasha's second eyebrow goes up to its sister, 'cause she's too smart to not understand that something’s up.

"Why?"

"Nothing."

"Clint."

"What?"

" _ Clint _ \--"

Lucky decides to show up in that exact moment, all wet and proud, and shakes his fur right in the middle of the room.

"Lucky!"

"Thanks, buddy. I felt too hot," Bucky says, cleaning his face, and Lucky barks and wags, happily.

"Come on, Lucky, go to bed now--Not  _ my _ bed!" Clint cries, trying to stop the dog, but he just passes over them and takes Clint's bedroom door. "Aw, bed" Clint sighs and Natasha pats him on the shoulder.

"At least this time you managed to wash him before," she says and the other man nods.

"I’ll take it as a victory."

"Good. Now, you guys are going out, right?"

This makes both Clint and Bucky turn to look at her.

"Why?"

"Are you waiting for someone? Do you have a date? Oh my God, you  _ do _ ! Who is it?" Clint starts blabbing, increasing the questions more and more and Natasha rolls her eyes and pushes her flatmate thought the door. "Is it Sam?"

"Go, Clint."

"Rhodey?" 

“Isn’t he in Iraq?” Bucky asks, confused, ‘cause last time they heard from Rhodey, he was still on a mission and said he wasn’t coming back for six months. 

Natasha opens the door, pushes her flatmate onto the landing and waves with a smile. "Have fun, be nice and, please,  _ don't die, _ " She says, taking the towel from Clint's hands and giving him a clean shirt in exchange - and from  _ where _ did she get that? Now, it’s a mystery that Bucky doesn’t know how to solve.

"Oh my God, it’s not Alex, right?" Clint tries one last time, but after Bucky gets out of the apartment, she closes the door in their face. "It's Alex. Fuck," Clint sighs. He puts his shirt on and runs a hand through his hair, trying to fix it - without luck.

"Who's Alex?"

"Her ex. He's not a bad guy, just..."

"You don't like him?"

"He's not right for her. And vice versa. They pull out the worst of each other."

"I didn't know."

"She never talks about him when they meet. I think she feels guilty because she doesn’t seem to be able to cut him off properly."

They come out of the building and continue to walk. Thunder rumbles in the distance, but they don't care. The sky starts spilling rain and makes their skin sticky. Bucky breathes and puts his metal hand in his pocket. Tony always repeats that it's not necessary, that the entire arm is waterproof, but Bucky can't help protecting it. It's a conditioned habit for all the years with his old, rusty prosthesis.

"Tony would kick your ass."

"Tony’s not here, is he?"

"Aw man, you're so lucky I like you," Clint says with a grin and Bucky's heart has a bump. Bucky tries to smile, but he’s not sure how that came up.

"Come on, I'm hungry and you promised me hot dogs," Clint pulls him and Bucky can only follow him, hoping the night will go without problem.

  
  
  


_______________

 

They eat and talk and walk and eat even more -  _ where  _ the fuck does Clint put all that? That’s a mystery that is disconcerting to everybody. And when they arrive at the theatre, it's ten minutes early for the show, so they buy the tickets from the ticket counter and go inside.

"Popcorn?" Clint asks, already heading toward the counter.

"You're still hungry? What the hell, are you for real?"

"Shut up. I'll pay," Clint orders an extra large with a lot of butter on it. 

“You’re gonna die of liver failure.”

“I’m gonna live forever.”

The cashier gives them the biggest box of popcorn Bucky has ever seen, and Clint accepts it with a joyful chirp. 

The screen over their heads blinks to let everyone know that, finally, the projection room is ready. They put themself in line and let a kid with his face eaten by acne check on their tickets. 

“I feel a little weird,” Bucky says, looking at the crowd towards them. They’re all younger than them, more or less, and for the first time in a long time, Bucky feels like he’s in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s like going back to five years before, when he was sent home from Afghanistan down an arm. It felt wrong and horrible, and made him want to cry for the feeling of uselessness that started growing in his chest. At that time, even the simplest things were difficult and hurt like hell. Even getting out of bed required maximum effort. Then Steve came back to Brooklyn, too, came back home to him, and some of his anxiety got better. It was still difficult, it was still hard as hell, but having Steve with him helped Bucky take care of himself enough to make him call the military therapist and schedule an appointment. It was the start of his healing process. Opening the pub just helped him keep his head straight and focus on the positive things. 

“Everything alright?” Clint’s voice makes Bucky turn and meet his worried eyes. Maybe he’s still more a mess than he thought he was. 

“Yeah, it’s just... Don’t you feel suddenly old?” he manages to ask and Clint laughs quietly. 

“Why? ‘Cause we’re surrounded by children and teenagers? Yeah, maybe a little,” Clint smiles at him and offers the popcorn. “But, you know, it’s our fault.” 

That’s true, Bucky thinks. In fact, it’s just late afternoon and no free-child adult would go at that time to see a movie. But it works fine for them, mostly because it leaves them more time to hang out together after. It’s just that there has never been so many children at once. 

“Do you think we need to act like we’re parents too? ‘Cause I really don’t wanna look like a predator,” Clint asks under his breath, and Bucky firmly shakes that strange feeling that comes up every time Clint is too close to him. 

“You know the more you try to do that, the more you’ll look exactly like a pedophile, right? Just concentrate on anything else and ignore them, if you can,” Bucky says, moving slowly as the crowd slides forward. 

“Okay, then,” Clint steps definitely too close to him this time and smiles at Bucky’s unsure look. 

In a different moment, with a different person, Bucky would be perfectly aware of what was going on - and would be perfectly fine with it, thank you very much - but this time, with  _ Clint _ , he really doesn’t know what to think. They’re friends, and Clint never gave him the idea of being interested in something more with him - or with  _ any _ kind of guy. To be fair, he doesn’t know anything about Clint’s type. And it’s really strange, if he thinks how much time they spend together. They talk about everything, except their love lives. For all he knows, Clint can  be into furry things. Fuck, he hopes Clint’s not into furry things. 

The crowd slides down again, moving toward the big doors and finally letting them inside and take their seats. 

Clint sits for like half a minute, then starts to move around, putting the box of popcorn on Bucky’s lap to go  pee and then comes back with his arms full of drinks and sweets. 

“I’m starting to regret my decision.” Bucky says, looking at the mountain of things the other is trying to put on them both. Some popcorn falls inexorably. 

“About what?” Clint asks, glaring at the box, dangerously hovering. 

“About you and this movie.”

“What do you mean?” Clint stops, curious, and looks at him, and Bucky sighs and runs a hand in his hair, trying to not look back at the other. This is a strange day - a strange week - and he needs to remind himself that they are just friends, that Clint has no idea what Bucky feels. And it’s better for everyone if Clint never knows. 

“Oh I don’t know, maybe the fact that you get excited too easily and that  _ that _ makes you make bad decisions?”

“I am perfectly capable of thinking when I’m excited.”

Clint’s offended face makes Bucky laugh and Clint takes the box from his legs to save the last of the popcorn inside. 

“There’s a fucking arrow on my pub’s ceiling!” Bucky cries, and then, when the parents all around them glare at him, he cuts off his mouth, trying to become invisible. 

“Hey, technically that’s not my fault,” Clint says, and this time Bucky takes his voice down.

“You threw it!”

“Yes, but it was a bet! And I won, of course.”

“One day I’m gonna kill you.”

“And then you will be very sad and miserable for the rest of your life.”

“A quiet and not ridiculous life, yes, I can work with that.”

The room goes dark, the screen goes blue and then, the film starts. 

“Yes! Finally!” Clint shouts, grabbing Bucky’s metal hand. He stays still, trying to figure out  _ what _ that means. Is it an invitation? Is it only Clint being Clint? Bucky stares at the contrast that Clint’s human hand makes against his metal and doesn’t move. He thinks about turning his palm and holding Clint’s, but when he tries to make a move, when he tries just to flex his fingers, nothing happens. It’s like his entire arm is stuck, like a dead piece of metal. Clint, eventually, takes his hand back and sits more comfortably against the seat. Bucky looks at him out the corner of the eye, noticing how concentrated Clint is on the film and how his hand - the one that was touching Bucky’s less than a minute ago - sometimes fishes into one of the many boxes between them and takes some sweets to Clint’s mouth. 

Bucky shuts his eyes closed and breathes, low and quiet, and it’s in that moment that he realises someone is laughing. Bucky opens his eyes and can’t stop himself from laughing too. 

“Hey, I think you’ve got a fan,” Bucky nods to a group of four young girls. They’re laughing and looking at Bucky and Clint - mostly Clint, really. They’re teenagers, probably seventeen or maybe even eighteen. The girls are two rows ahead of them, and keep turning around to take a look. Clint snorts and fills his mouth with popcorn. 

“I prefer brunettes. And older. Much,  _ much _ older” Clint says, the last sentence he almost shouts. Bucky laughs quietly and shakes his head, but something in his chest does a somersault. 

Was that a sign? Was Clint trying to say  _ something _ ? Fuck, how did all of that become so hard to understand? In the past, he was good at that, for fuck’s sake. He would have put his damn arm on their shoulder and just pull them against him, let them feel his chest. Bucky used to slip his nose into their hair and just breathe, making them shiver at the intimacy, and let his hand caress slowly along the flesh of their neck. In the past, Bucky would have gone to  third base without effort. Flirting was just like shooting, for him. Easy. 

Now, everything is different and, sometimes, even breathing becomes almost impossible. The light goes on and Bucky realizes he just lost the entire film. Damn. 

“Well, it was good, right?” Clint says with a smile, while they reach the exit. Bucky nods, not trusting to say anything else. He has no idea what the film was about. Fuck, he will stream it once he’s at home. 

Outside, the evening is still hot and the rain doesn’t fall as promised, so it’s just stickier than before. They walk back to their apartments, and a strange feeling just follows them - mostly Bucky and his stupid incapacity of understand what’s going on. 

“So... strange night, right?” Clint says, making Bucky’s heart lose a bump.

“What do you mean?” Bucky tries to ask, but the other man just keep talking, without listening. 

“Look, I have to say, what I said before...  What--” Clint swears under his breath and puts himself in front of Bucky’s steps, making him stop abruptly. “Look, I mean it, okay? I don’t go around doing stupid shit when I’m into someone. Really into, I mean. Like now. So...” He leaves the sentence unfinished, but it’s really easy to understand what’s at the end of it. 

Bucky stays still, almost frozen, and doesn’t know what to say. But he needs to say something, right? Clint’s into someone, and doesn’t want Bucky to be in the way, not even in his intentions. What’s the etiquette when someone shoots you down? When your friend does it, even if you didn’t really wooed him?

“It’s-Is it okay for you?” Clint asks and the hope in his voice is so clear that Bucky can’t stop himself. 

“Yeah.” It’s almost a whisper, but the relief on Clint’s face is immediate. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Okay. Got it.” 

Bucky nods. He doesn’t look at Clint and when Clint moves, stepping towards him, Bucky takes a step back and then another and then another. He blurts out: “I’ll call you tomorrow,” and then goes away. 

He doesn’t run, no, but he doesn’t look back, even when Clint tries to call him back, Bucky just keeps going. Eventually, Clint stops and Bucky, finally, can breathe again, even if it’s still painful. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own so much to GingerEnvy for her work with my mess. You have no idea. She's an angel and my saviour.   
> Stateira, otherwise, makes my life more interesting and encourage me to write everyday, even when I don't want to. So... yeah, this is basically her fault. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this chap as much as I enjoy your comments and kudos ♥

He does not call Clint, the day after, or the day after that. Clint, for his part, does not call him either. Bucky supposes it’s because now things are awkward between them and Clint is trying to give him space. The less they see each other,the less the moment Clint had friendzoned Bucky will linger between them. 

Fuck, he has been friendzoned. He never thought it could happened to him - but he never fell for a pal, before. 

It’s been two days that Clint hasn’t shown up at the pub, but that night he does, as if he has be summoned, with a grin and a new, fresh cut under the left eye that pairs with the still yellow bruise around the nose. 

Of-fucking-course. 

“The fuck have you done?” Bucky can’t stop himself to ask, and the other man just grins more and shrugs. 

“An idiot with a gun and too much itch to use it,” Clint says, walking toward the counter. He leans on the counter bar and taps his hands, following the background music. “So... How were your past two days? And where is my pint and why is it not ready yet?” Clint seems like the regular, old Clint, and this is so strange that Bucky has no idea what to say in response. 

“Because I cannot magically predict when you come,” Bucky grunts, but starts to fill the pint with Clint’s favorite double malted red. 

“Yeah, well, we could work on that?” Clint says, and Bucky almost lets the pint fall from his hand ‘cause -  _ fuck _ \- is that an innuendo?

“Hey, man, welcome back,” Sam reaches for them and pats Clint’s shoulder, turning Clint’s face to observe the cut with a whistle. “Have you been fighting with Edward Scissorhands?”

“Nope. I’m just not bulletproof, my bad.”

“Silly you. And you, Barnes? Don’t you have anything to say? Look at his ruined pretty face,” Sam says, turning Clint’s face again, this time towards Bucky. Their eyes meets and - oh god - there’s something in that blue, something soft and warm, something that makes Bucky’s heart stumble into his chest and then start running. 

“What can I say? He’s an idiot.” 

“Yeah, but he’s your idiot, right?” Sam replies and Bucky feels something squeeze his heart, painfully. 

_ No, he’s not _ . 

The door behind them opens and an entire group of twenty damn Germans comes in. 

“ _ Hallo _ !” they say, walking toward the heart of the pub. Darcy is almost crushed against the leader of the group as she steps aside to let them pass. She smiles more falsely at any  _ hallo _ or  _ hullo  _ or _ guten abend  _ they say. 

“Have we been invaded?” Darcy asks, slipping next to Bucky. “And if we have, why aren’t you guys protecting me?”

“Why, do you need protection? Are you not a strong and independent woman and all that bullshit?”

“Yes, but I am not an idiot, you know. I’m not going to war while there are actual soldiers in here,” Saying that, she takes the tray and disappears into the crowd. 

“Okay, maybe it’s better if we go and leave you to your work, buddy. Come on, Clint, he’s not going anywhere, you can admire him later,” Sam says, pulling Clint to their table. It’s number five, as usual, and it’s already occupied by Natasha, Tony and Thor. 

The NFL player is there again, and it seems like he doesn’t want to go away anytime soon. Bucky is pretty sure that’s because he hopes to see Loki again. 

Sure thing is that Loki is not showing his wanted ass anywhere and clearly he will not show it any time soon. Bucky feels a little sorry for Thor, but, hey, it’s not like he really cares about those two fucking brothers - literally. 

From that moment, the night takes a frenetic rhythm. In the following thirty minutes, the pub is packed with customers asking to eat and drink, and every time Bucky looks at the orders, they continue to grow on and on. Darcy runs from table to table like the damn Flash and Steve beats receipt after receipt, more a pianist than a cashier. Fuck, it’s a damn nightmare. Bucky doesn’t even look up anymore, when someone approaches the counter bar. 

“Give me a second, pal,” he says, but the man doesn’t reply and just starts to sing instead.

“ _ Uhhhh move your sweet body closer... _ ” 

Bucky looks up from the tray of six pints he just put on it, and meets Clint’s eyes. He’s leaning on the counter with a fucking beautiful smile, carrying on singing along with the background music on the radio. 

“Go away, Barton,” Bucky sighs, pushing the tray on the counter when Darcy is there to take it. 

“ _ Come on and be my fantasy... _ ” 

Bucky shuts his eyes, opens them and starts doing a new order, ignoring Clint and his damned, fucking voice. 

“ _ Oh you’re so near I-- _ ”

“I mean it, Clint!” Bucky shouts out loud, giving him his back to keep grabbing as many pints as he can. “I don’t have time for this shit. I have a hundred orders to fill and then a hundred more. Go spend time with the others and don’t waste my time,” he says, still not looking at him.

Clint shuts his mouth, silent and blinks - of course he does, Bucky knows him so fucking well. “O-Okay. Then... See you later, maybe,” he says, then turns and goes back to the table with Sam, Natasha and Thor. 

A punch hits Bucky’s shoulder and when he turns, Steve is looking angrily at him. 

_ What? _ Bucky mutters silently

“Are you out of your mind?”

“I’m working, Stevie, I can’t--” Bucky sighs. What Bucky can’t do is look at Clint singing at him something like that without doing some dumbshit like kissing the man and making himself look ridiculous in front of everybody. 

Steve seems to understand, ‘cause he doesn’t say anything else and leaves Bucky to  filling pints. After that, the night goes on, with new customers replacing the old ones. And Bucky really doesn’t pay attention to whatever happens around him until he doesn’t catch someone, at the cashier, complaining to Steve about Darcy. 

“I’m really sorry, I’m sure it was an accident.” Steve is trying to say in his most peaceful tone.

“I don’t care. She broke my damned phone, I want her to be fired!”

Steve sighs and puts up his best smile for customers he has. “Unfortunately, I can’t do that. Look, your bill is on me and I apologize again for the accident, but I can’t do more.”

“That’s bullshit! You are incompetent! I’ll call my lawyer!” The man cries out, reaching for the door and shutting it behind him. 

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Lawyer? For a fucking phone?”

Steve sighs again and shakes his head. “I don’t know, pal, it’s a strange night.”

“You can say that again.”

And it really is a strange night. It’s so strange that when Sam calls Steve and Bucky, they don’t ask and just go with him, to find out that it’s about Darcy again. 

“What’s happening?” Steve asks, approaching the fireplace near table number five. 

“She’s crazy!”

“He’s being a dick.”

“Darcy, what--” Steve looks shocked, and even Bucky is surprised, ‘cause Darcy does not treat customers like that, even with all her sarcasm and her bad jokes, she never talks like that. 

Steve crosses his arms. “Apologize. Now.”

“What? No way.”

“I will not repeat myself, Darcy. Now.”

Darcy looks outraged, even hurt, but turns to the angry man with a fake smile so big it probably hurts. 

“I’m sorry,” she says and Steve relaxes a little bit, at least until she start again: “I am really sorry for your ass face. I can only imagine how hard it is to keep it clean from the shit you say every time. Do you use a specific product to preserve your PH?”

It’s a little shock for everyone. Even Tony goes quiet at the table, his eyes big, and Bucky has never seen the man like that. He wasn’t even sure Tony could be shocked like that. 

“Darcy,” Steve looks at her more than shocked, and the girl looks back at him in challenge. 

“What! This man, Steve, this pathetic excuse for a man, was snapping photos everywhere in the pub. Because, apparently, one giant blond mountain of a man can’t have a beer without some paparazzi lurking in the way.”

That makes Steve freeze. Bucky makes a step into the scene, looking at the broken phone on the table. Now, that explains something. 

“Get out,” he says. The man near the table looks angrily at him. 

“I’m a customer and your waitress broke my phone, and you want me out? I have rights!”

Two heavy, gigantic hands slam down on the table, making everyone jerk. 

“GET. OUT. NOW.” Thor roars to the man, and he won’t take angry stares from anyone. He’s a goddamned football player, he’s got immunity.

So the man does get up and quickly disappears through the door. 

“He didn’t pay the bill, the jerk,” Bucky says, ‘cause that’s something you cannot forget when you don’t have much money. 

“I will pay for the entire night, it is my fault people like that lurk around here,” Thor states, grabbing back his beer. “I’m sorry, I mean it. And thank you, Darcy. I think someone’s getting a very good tip tonight.”

“Yeah, and someone else needs to apologise to me for saving the pub’s reputation.” Darcy turns to Steve, who’s still silent and fixed, like a damn statue. 

“I…” he mumbles. “I-I need to go now.”

Steve just runs away, not letting anybody say anything. Darcy blinks, shocked and steaming in anger. Bucky’s pretty sure she’s ready to explode, but then Tony stands up and goes find Steve, and Darcy shouts “Tell him he’s an asshole and I want a salary increase!” and Bucky knows everything will be okay. 

  
  
  


_______________ 

 

Clint laughs into Bucky’s ear, an intimate laugh that makes him shake and kiss Clint again. The school is quiet and empty, and Clint’s laughs echoed in the hallway. Something itchy bites Bucky’s neck - cause there is no sense in there. Why are they in Bucky’s old school? But then Clint takes Bucky’s face into his hands and kisses him senseless, and Bucky just forgets everything else. God, Clint’s body is perfect under his hands. It’s warm and beautiful and everything Bucky always thought it would be. 

“We should go, the others will come and find us,” Clint says, after a perfect eternity. Bucky nods and kisses him again, letting his tongue slip into Clint’s mouth. Clint moans and Bucky’s chest explodes with happiness. 

“Yeah sure,” Bucky says but doesn’t let the other go. Bucky kisses Clint’s neck and then his mouth, lets Clint’s tongue slide into his, pushes against Clint’s hands, feeling them aching to touch and explore and learn every inch of Bucky’s body. Fuck. it’s perfect. 

_ Fuck, I love you _ , he thinks and kisses Clint again and again. 

“Fuck, I love you,” Clint says and Bucky shakes-- and then Steve shakes his shoulder again and Bucky opens his eyes, gasping for air. 

“Fuck.  _ Fuck, _ ” he says, covering himself with his sheet. He’s in his room, in the apartment he shares with Steve. There’s no school at midnight, no Clint, no kisses, no  _ I love you’s _ . Fuck. 

“Fuck,” he repeats. Steve opens the window, lets the fresh air come inside, and only in that moment Bucky sees the frown on his best friend’s face. 

“I have to go,” Steve says. “Tony-- I need to go and take him to the hospital.”

And that wakes Bucky up like nothing else. “What? What’s happened? Is he okay?”

“I don’t know. Well... I think he  _ is _ , but Pepper called me, she thinks he may have a concussion and--”

“Go. He’s an idiot, you know it, and hates the hospital, but he doesn’t say no to you.”

“Thanks, pal,” Steve smiles just a little. “Do you remember about the supplier, right? It’s in an hour.”

“I do now. Go, Steve, and tell him for me that he’s an idiot.”

Steve leaves the room without any other word and Bucky lets himself stare at the ceiling. His body is still dizzy and tense, with the echo of the dream still tingling his skin. 

Clint’s voice comes back to him. The memory of his mouth under Bucky’s, the feeling of Clint’s breath against his, of Clint’s hands against Bucky’s wrist hits him hard. 

_ “I love you, _ ” Clint’s voice whispers into Bucky’s memory. 

Fuck, he’s so screwed. 

Bucky stand up and out from the bed and rubs his face. He needs to stop this shit and put his life back on the straight way. 

Clint is dating someone else, it’s okay, this is not the end of the world - even if he feels like it is. 

It’s okay, he’s not so desperate. He still has his friendship and their thursdays together.

It will be okay, he thinks, dressing up and tying up his hair. He will be okay, he will stop feeling like he’s dying every time Clint smiles. He will be the best friend to whom Clint will introduce his special someone to one day. And Bucky will play nice and just be as good as he can. He can do it, he decides, grabbing his keys and locking the door behind his back, ready to go to work. 

He can be that kind of good friend. He just needs more time. 

  
  
  


_______________

 

Bucky waves at the supplier and turns around to look at the boxes that the man left in front of the pub. It’s more than he thought, but it’s still boxes, so he should manage. One at a time, Bucky carries them into the pub and places them in front of the service door. Then, there is step two, carry them down the stairs to the storage room. And that will be less easy, because of the stairs, and the dim light, but if Steve can do it, then Bucky can, too. Prosthetic or not. 

Bucky goes out and takes the last box from the sidewalk, but a stab of pain runs through his shabby shoulder and the box slips from his hands. Bucky swears under his breath, trying to catch the box before it crashes on the ground. Two other hands come in help before it happens.

“Thanks” He says, before noticing who those helping hands belong to. Clint smiles and nods. Just one, single nod, as he puts the box up. 

“Where do you want it?” 

“Just leave it there,” Bucky says, pointing at a pile of boxes near the stairs. 

“Don’t you want me to take it down?” Clint asks, looking at the dark stairs. 

“I can do that,” Bucky replies with more effort that he thought, but Clint doesn’t seem to care. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says. “But together can make it in half the time.”

There is an embarrassed silence between them, the words Bucky said the night before still lingering in their memory. 

“Look, about last night,” Bucky starts, but the other tries to stop him. 

“No, I was an idiot and you were working--”

“I didn’t want to be rude. You didn’t deserve that, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, everything’s already forgotten.”

“It was a strange night.”

“You bet it was.”

“No, I mean... I think you lost it, but a guy tried to sue us for a fucking phone.”

“They what?”

“Yeah, a fucking phone. Steve told him to go fuck himself with his polite manners.”

Clint laughs, making Bucky feel like his heart is floating away from his chest. God, it can’t be so serious. It’s a fucking problem. 

“I can perfectly see that. Where’s Steve, anyway?”

“At Tony’s. The idiot blew himself up.”

“What!?”

“He’s fine. In fact, Pepper called Steve to convince Tony to go to the hospital and do a check-up.”

“And he did?”

“Nah. So Steve went and carried him himself.”

Clint laughs. “Is Tony always like that?”

“Yeah, pretty much. But he’s a decent guy, so it’s okay, even when he is stubborn like that.”

Clint laughs and hangs in place. “Look, I was thinking...” he shrugs with a tiny, beautiful smile. _ I love you _ , says the Clint in Bucky’s memories, smiling just like the real one. “We could maybe go and grab some coffee before you open tonight?”

_ I love you _ , Clint repeats, kissing Bucky while his school is empty and the others could find them. 

“Ah-no. I’m alone and I need to stay here and make everything perfect for the opening,” Bucky says, shaking his head, more to send away those memories than to answer. 

“Oh, okay... maybe I can help you, then? Just--”

_ I love you _ . 

“Look, Clint, I--” Bucky sighs and doesn’t look at the other. That smile, those eyes, it’s too difficult to look at them and say what he needs to. “I don’t think this could work,” He points a finger between them and adds: “Me and you, like this... I--It’s better if we don’t--fuck,” Bucky takes the box from Clint’s hands and gives his back to Clint. “Look, I need to go to work, now.”

“O-okay. Okay” Clint says out of air. “Is this what you really want?”

“It’s better like this,” Bucky says, closing the pub’s door behind his back. 

  
  
  


_______________

 

Bucky really thinks that’s the better choice. 

He wants to be a good friend for Clint, but he can’t, not with those feelings eating him alive. He needs to clean his head and move forward.  

So it’s okay if Clint doesn’t come to the pub for some nights, and it’s still okay when Clint does come back - and there is someone with him. 

“Who’s that?” Sam asks, pointing at Clint and the beautiful woman with him. She’s really gorgeous, with big, grey eyes, and long black hair, and a beautiful smile and - all the other beautiful things. Bucky hates her. “Is that Clint’s sister?” Sam asks again, and then denies with a shake of his head. “Actually no, tell me she’s not his sister, ‘cause I can’t deal with two more too cuddly brothers.”

Bucky, idiot as he is, turns to take a look and his heart falls in his shoes. Clint leans to her. He smiles and moves away her hair from her ear to mumble something into it. She laughs and tilts her head toward Clint, almost offering herself for a kiss - which is exactly what she gets. 

_ Fuck _ . 

“Wha-” Sam blinks extremely surprised. “What the-” Sam seems really shocked and turns to Bucky with a sympathetic look. “Fuck, man. I’m sorry, I really thought you two were a thing,” he apologies, and fuck everything, this hurts more than everything else. 

“Well, yeah, whatever,” Bucky says, ‘cause that’s nothing else he can think right now, and denying is useless at this point. 

Sam is really concerned and Bucky ignores him and goes back to fill the pints. Steve is in the pub’s small kitchen, Darcy is walking around the tables and the night is perfect and quiet. 

Everything is fine and Bucky does not hate every single minute he spends in there. It’s his job and he finds he really loves brewing beers and making fries and making everybody feel comfortable. Their pub is a home for many customers and that’s something to be proud for. Clint is just another customer, or he will be, soon. 

Bucky survived war, even with an arm down, he survived. He got through the hell, he fought his own demons and won. 

He just needs time and space, to think about anything but Clint Damn Barton and his stupid dumb face. 

  
  
  


_______________

 

So, when Thursday comes, he feels relieved. 

It’s strange, though, because it’s the first time since almost a year that he spends a Thursday without hearing from Clint, at least.

It’s strange and it feels sad, but it’s the best for Bucky’s heart, he is sure about that. 

He planned to spend the day relaxing and maybe doing some exercise for his shoulder. It’s a couple of days that it aches and itches, and Bucky starts to feel like there is a sore spot somewhere down there. Maybe he will ask Tony to take a look at it. 

So he goes and takes a bath and massages his suffering shoulder with a medical cream, and then he crashes on the couch. He will have a “Brooklyn 99”’ marathon and nobody will stop him.

He’s at the second episode of the first season when Steve comes back home with a pizza and a six pack of beer. 

“The hell are you doing here?” Bucky says, looking at him. Steve ignores him and just moves Bucky’s feet from the couch to sit there. He reaches for the coffee table and puts the food and drinks on it, kicking his shoes away with a sigh of relief.

“Steve?”

“Mh?”

“Why the hell are you home?”

“Why, you expecting someone?”

It’s a joke, Steve is smiling, but Bucky can see how the humor doesn’t cross Steve’s eyes. There is concern in them and Bucky swears under his breath. 

“I don’t need a babysitter, Steve.”

“I know,” Steve says, taking a slice of pizza for himself and one for Bucky. Bucky accepts it, though, ‘cause he’s hungry and there’s nothing in the fridge apart from an almost finished tube of mayo and a piece of green cheese that doesn’t look good. 

“Then why are you here?”

Steve shrugs and takes a bite of pizza. “I don’t want to go out, tonight.”

Bucky’s eyebrows rise up. “Yeah sure. And where did you leave Tony?”

“We’re not spending all our time together, you know?”

At this, Bucky turns to him with a shocked look. “What? Really?”

“Fuck you!” Steve kicks him and Bucky laughs and relaxes into the couch. Steve passes him a beer and opens one for himself. They stay like that for a while, just watching the tv show and pretending it’s a regular night.

“Thanks,” Bucky murmurs at one point, ‘cause he may have some issues with that word, but not using it with Steve. Never with Steve. 

Steve smiles and pats him on his back, in a brotherly way. 

“I got your back, pal.” 

The night goes on, and it’s kinda cute and pleasurable, and Bucky finds himself more relaxed and less depressed than he thought he would be. He goes to bed feeling like there is a way out from that stupid problem, and that he can survive, even without Clint and his damned, beautiful, goofy smile. 

So, yeah, he and Steve can work that out together. Bucky will be back soon, and will be able to be a good friend for Clint again - at least, if Clint would have him back. 

But the way is long and hard. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thank so much to GingerEnvy, she's the best beta in the world ♥

“You never act like that,” Steve says to Bucky, one day.

They’re cleaning after closing the pub. BUDD-E passes among their feet, chirping happily every time it finds something to pick up.  

“What?” Bucky closes the dish machine and looks confused at Steve, who’s cleaning the tables, after freeing them from the empty pints and bottles.

“I never see you acting like that with someone you like. So why with Clint?”

Bucky, to be honest, has been expecting that kind of question for all night.

Clint has come a some point, with a certain Scott - dark hair, green eyes - and stayed for a while. Not so long, but enough for Bucky to start ignoring them and letting Darcy take their orders and Steve fill them.

“It’s different.”

“Yeah, okay, but why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Bucky...”

“I don’t know!” Bucky closes his eyes and breathes, his hands closed in fists and an increasing anxiety biting his stomach. “Look, it’s...” he sighs. “I’m a mess,” he admits, finally.

“Who isn’t?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“No, I mean it. I am a mess too, Bucky.”

“Yeah, but you’re still yourself. You’re uncut.” Saying it out loud is painful and liberating at the same time, but Bucky still wants to hide himself in a hole and show up never again.

“Tony and I are fighting all the time,” Steve says, after a while. “He still wants me to be out in the public view with him, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Steve checks on the cashier and picks up some notes. It was an easy, comfortable night, but Steve seems to be on high alert. He always has been, over the past few days, and Bucky knows exactly why. There is a big, pink elephant in the room and Bucky doesn’t know what to do. He knows perfectly what the problem with Steve is, even if until now it never showed up in the pub. But the last few days make clear even the pub - their second home - is not safe anymore from Steve’s anxiety. It’s like he’s always on his guard, like he’s expecting some paparazzi to jump out from the fireplace just to capture a kiss between Tony and him. And, man, if that’s not Steve’s worst nightmare.

“Everything alright with him now?” he asks softly. He knows it isn’t. He knows Steve has his own wounds, and it’s selfish for him to forget it just because they can’t be seen. The truth is, Steve has a big problem with Steve. He never forgave himself for what happened in Afghanistan.

“We’re not talking about Tony now, we’re talking about you. And you, man, are not okay.”

Bucky sighs and puts back the pints.

“Yeah, well, I can live with that.”

Steve closes the cashier and turns back to him, with a strange look on his face.

“You should think about seeing someone. Maybe even Sam’s group therapy, if it’s not too much sharing with strangers.”

“No,” Bucky replies, with more effort that he thought he needed.

“You need help, Buck. Actual help. Someone who knows what you’re going through

and can lead you,” Steve’s grip on Bucky’s shoulder tightens as the man approaches his best friend. Bucky’s first instinct is to push him away, and breathe some air. But that’s Steve, his Steve, his best friend, and he doesn’t deserve Bucky’s bullshit.

Bucky sighs again and shrugs, avoiding Steve’s eyes.

“You should too, you know it, right?”

Steve tenses up and his hand falls from Bucky’s shoulder.

“I’m okay, don’t bother,” the smile Steve gives him is so fake it’s almost hilarious. Bucky would really believe that, but he knows that man and his stupid heart - and his even more stupid head. Steve is not okay, and that’s something they need to sort out, too.

“You’re still having nightmares.” Bucky says softly.

Steve freezes while picking up a sponge, but doesn’t deny. “It got better since Tony’s with me,” he replies in a whisper, cleaning the counter that Bucky already cleaned.

“I call bullshit. You just don’t let yourself have a damned nightmare when Tony’s with you ‘cause you’re too stubborn even with your subconscious, and you don’t want Tony to worry. You’re better my ass.” Bucky spits out, almost angrily. It’s not even Steve’s fault, he knows that, but he cannot take his friend’s issues on his shoulders, not now, he really can’t.

They close the pub in silence, and in silence go home. Only when they’re in their own apartment, Bucky sighs. 

“Next time you have a nightmare,” he says, one step away from his room. “Wake me up. Okay?” 

Steve looks surprised, but he nods and smiles. “You know you can always talk to me, right?” Steve says, with affection, and - yeah, Bucky knows it. 

“Sleep well, Stevie,” Bucky replies, instead. 

  
  


_______________

 

Three days later, Bucky knows Steve is right.

Clint comes into the pub alone, for once, and Bucky really hopes he stays like that all night long - so maybe they can talk at some point, if Bucky is brave enough.

He’s almost on his way to Clint’s table when a tall, dark haired and handsome guy approaches Clint. They smile to each other and shake their hands, before sitting and asking Darcy for drinks.

Sam is at the counter bar, drinking his beer and looking at Clint and his new date.

“He’s not dating _someone_ , he’s dating the whole damn world!” And fuck, yes, thank God he’s saying it, ‘cause that’s ridiculous even for Bucky.

“Hey, guys,” Kate comes in with a wave and a smile, that vanishes at the image of Clint talking with Tall, Dark and Handsome. God, Bucky hates that guy _so much_. “Oh my God,” she cries. “I can’t believe he really did it.”

“You know what’s going on over there?” Sam asks, taking a sip from his beer.

“What’s going on is that you are witnessing Clint being more idiot than he usually is,” she gives another look at the table and groans. “Oh God, I need a drink.”

Bucky doesn’t let her say anything else and places a blond pint in front of her. Kate looks at the pint, then at Bucky, then at the pint again and, finally, raises an eyebrow at Bucky. “Give me a coke.”

“You wanted a drink, I gave you a drink.”

“I want something that doesn’t taste like pee, but you don’t do cocktails, am I right? Give me a damned coke.”

Sam waves a hand between them. “No, really, Kate, who the hell is that guy? It’s like he came straight out from a 40’ styles magazine. Who the hell still wears waistcoat?” It’s clear he can’t believe his own eyes. It would be pretty funny if only it wasn’t Clint’s date.

“Other that Tony, you mean?” Bucky asks, trying to ignore the two men at the table and the way his own heart hurts. His own stomach hurts too, but Bucky decides that’s because of the burrito he ate that afternoon. He is not jealous.

“Tony is rich, he doesn’t count.” Sam looks at him with an eyebrow up, because Bucky may or may not have growled. No, definitely not. Shut up, Sam.

“Well, technically Stephen is rich too, so he doesn’t count too, right?” Kate shrugs.

“You know that guy, huh?” Sam points out and Kate shrugs.

“He’s… an acquaintance of my family. Clint and I met him some time ago, and two days ago Clint begged me for his number, ‘cause he is a stubborn idiot.”

And somehow, everything falls into its place in Bucky’s mind. That guy had to be _the guy_ , the significant one Clint told him about, the one he’s so into. Fuck, of course Bucky had no fucking chance.

Fuck, that’s depressing. Nobody can compete with someone like that. This guy is all gorgeous, rich and well mannered. He is a fucking dream-man, who operates _brains_ all around the world for a living and was the one who helped Tony to create Bucky’s arm, apparently. Bucky isn’t sure if Kate is impressed by the man or hates him because he reminds her of her own family.

“I can’t believe Clint really asked him out. He doesn’t seem Clint’s type, to be honest,” Sam says.

“Clint likes dark hair,” Bucky replies, and maybe he says it with too much effort, but it’s only because Sam seemed too surprised.

“You don’t say.”

“I can’t believe Stephen accepted to go out with him, to be honest too,” Kate breaks in, like she almost didn’t hear them.

“Why the hell wouldn’t he accept? Clint is terrific,” Bucky growls - and fuck, no, this time he can’t pretend he didn’t do it. Kate and Sam look at him with surprise.

“Yes,” she says slowly, like she’s talking to a very small baby - or a wild animal. “But Stephen is a douchebag who doesn’t like getting mixed with the _normals._ ”

“Are we the normals? ‘Cause I don’t like the way you said normal, like it’s a bad thing,” Sam says and Kate nods, rising her coke to him.

“Exactly.”

There is a moment of silence, in which the three of them look at the most interesting table of the night, where two men look at each other with a weird smile - well, Clint smiles weird, to be honest. Stephen looks only annoyed and pretty confused, like he’s asking himself why the hell he is there. Bucky would like to know too, really.

“Wait a minute. Do I see a pattern here?” Sam asks at some point, with an interrogative look. Natasha, who approaches the counter bar in that moment, smirks, giving a look to Clint, while Kate rolls her eyes.

“What, the pattern about the dark hair and the fair eyes? You mean that pattern?”

And yeah, Bucky noticed that too. By that time, Clint has dated two girls - Wanda and Jessica - and three men - Scott, Stephen and Marc. All dark hair, all fair eyes. Everybody saw that pattern.  

“He’s got a type,” Bucky tries to defend Clint, and he really doesn’t know why. It’s none of his business. At all.

“No, he’s dating doppelgangers,” Kate replies, shaking her head, but coming back every so often to the crime scene in the corner. At the table, Stephen pulls his phone out from the jacket, looking really annoyed, and Clint’s security just vanishes. His finger taps nervously on his cold pint. “Oh God, I can’t look anymore,” Kate says, covering her face.

Sam, next to her, doesn’t look away. “It’s like looking at a train wreck. You’re horrified, but can’t take your eyes away.”

“Come on, Kate, let’s go see if the cinema nearby is still open. That, or I’m going to punch the idiot square in his pretty little face,” Nat is looking at Bucky. Straight in his eyes. Bucky gets it. She means that horrible Stephen, and his horribly pretty little face. Or perhaps Clint. Because he is an idiot, but with a very pretty face.

“Maybe we should make Clint’s phone ring. You know, just to give him an escape,” Sam suggest discreetly, when the two girls are already out of reach. “Because he seems miserable enough to me.”

“No,” Bucky declares, because he’s a good friend and he knows how important this date is for Clint. “No, it is Clint’s chance to score with his dream man. Let him play all his cards.”

“His dream man,” Sam is not buying it in the slightest. “His dream man, James Buchanan Barnes. That one over there, with that annoyed shark face. Oh, I’m sure you’re so happy for Clint. You’re delighted.”

No, he is not, of course, but he’s not admitting it to Sam. Bucky sighs and dries the cleaned pints out the dish machine. “I have no voice in it,” and that’s true, painfully true.

In fact, he has so little voice into Clint’s love life he’d better mind his own business, because Bucky has no fucking chance with _his_ dream man. Steve’s words comes back into his memory with all the worrying of his best friend, and Bucky thinks maybe it’s time to do something. He can’t live like that.

“So. How’s your group therapy going?” Bucky asks, without looking at Sam. He’s doesn’t need to see Sam’s questioning eyes.

“Fine,” he answers, after one moment. Bucky nods at nothing, more like he’s doing it just to do something. Sam still looks at him, waiting.  

“There are some new faces?” Bucky adds, with a nonchalance he really doesn’t feel.

Sam keeps his poker face on. “A few.”

The silent moment is there again, this time longer, tenser, and Bucky still doesn’t look at Sam, who’s now smiling a little bit.

“And there is maybe a spare chair for a new member?” Bucky finally asks - and it’s almost like he has moved an entire mountain. Exhausting, but something to be proud of.  

Sam smiles quietly. “Always, man.”

Bucky nods, incapable to look at the other, and takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he nods again. “Where and when?”

“Tomorrow morning will be good.” Sam’s beer clinks with Bucky’s, and Bucky smiles a little, drinking on the start of his new healing process.

First step taken.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chap is not beated, so any error or problem are all my fault. If there is something really bad, please, tell me and I will do something about it asap :)  
> Love you, guys! I hope you will enjoy it as much as I did writing it ♥
> 
> **EDIT:** now it is edited, so if it seems 100% better, it's all thanks to my amazing beta, GingerEnvy ♥ ♥ ♥

The group therapy goes fine. It’s hard at first, but Sam is really great at it, makes Bucky feel comfortable enough to really talk at the third session. They talk, they share and then it’s Sam’s turn to talk and untie every knot they have in their souls. 

It happened one day after one really good session. Bucky came back home in the early afternoon, in a good mood and ready to go open the pub and make it a great night for everyone. 

Steve and Tony were there, in their kitchen, glaring at each other in what could only be described as a stand off. Bucky wasn’t even sure they knew he was there. 

“You can’t be sure of that,” Steve said, looking as stubborn as Bucky knew he can be. 

“No, you are wrong,” Tony countered. He was so angry he shook, but didn’t stop looking at Steve. “I can. I  _ am _ ! And if  _ you _ can’t be sure of what you’ll be feeling for me in a year or two... then I don’t know what I’m fighting for.” Tony seemed to deflate in a second, and looked almost tiny compared to Steve. “I love you, Steve, but you cannot blame me for your insecurity.” Tony sighed and turned away, away from Steve’s hurt look, away from everything that, Bucky was sure, could make him changed his mind. “Call me when you know what you want, Steve,” Tony said, in the end, and then took his jacket and got out of the apartment. Steve has never looked so devastated in his entire life. And Bucky didn’t know how to make him feel better.

So it’s not a surprise when Steve shows up at the group therapy, all terrified and insecure. He stays still for a while, at the door. Bucky is not sure what to do, if calling him will be helpful or not. Sam gives his back to the door, so doesn’t notice anything but Bucky’s look. 

Carol is talking. It’s her turn to says her story, ‘cause it’s her first day. It’s cathartic, telling  everything to a group of strangers, it’s that first step that makes the regeneration start. 

Steve moves, finally, and while Bucky’s smile takes control of his face, Steve sits in the chair next to him. 

He doesn’t look at anybody, and he’s so tense Bucky is sure he’s physically in pain, but he’s there, and Sam smiles and nods, so Bucky gives him the fist and Steve bumps it with his. 

They can do this together, like everything else. They will get better together, and will regain control of their life again. One step at time. 

“Thanks, Carol,” Sam says, and everybody echoed him. “Now, I see there is a last second  new entry.” Sam smiles and Steve nods, even more firm than before. “Would you like to present yourself to the group?”

“I don’t--”

“You can do it,” Bucky whispers. Steve looks at him, unsure, and sighs. 

“I-” He starts, but his voice fails right away. Steve clears his throat and tries again. “My name is Steve and I’m here because I had a very bad fight with the man I love.” 

The group of people around Steve falls in a respectful silence, and he feels a little braver than before. Probably because of Bucky. “See, I-I don’t think I’m ready to step into the light of day with our relationship, because I’m basically terrified he will wake up tomorrow and realise that I’m nothing special, really, and not worth spending his life with, so-yeah. I came to understand that it doesn’t matter if he will actually dump me or not, I have to do something to offer him a decent, functional partner, and I cannot do that right now, because I’m not functional. At all. So, here I am. Go me,” he ends with a bitter smile. 

There is a little clapping of support and Bucky pats on his shoulder. 

Sam smiles again and makes himself comfortable into the chair - and hell knows how he can be comfortable into that thing. “See, this is very good, and very important. We all need to understand that the issues that we bring back from the front line affect our current lives. Our private lives, our significant ones, our children, parents, everyone. It’s mainly about us, but it’s not only about us. Let’s think about how we can make ourselves and the ones we love happier, more relaxed, more into the moment. The memories we bring back from war are ours, and ours alone, but the future we walk towards is not.” 

The group nods, murmuring their approbation. Bucky looks at his prosthetic hand, unsure, but Steve’s hand slides in it, and their fingers cross together. Bucky smiles a little, feeling more secure and loved. Like always with Steve. 

  
  
  


_______________

 

It’s almost a month from that infamous day between Bucky and Clint. They have barely talked to each other in that time, even if Clint took his dates into Bucky’s pub. They politely ignore each other and ignore the giant, bright pink elephant in the room. 

So it takes a moment for Bucky to notice  _ who _ is sitting at the counter bar, with his head half hidden between his own arms. 

Kate’s pity smile is all for Clint and his ridiculous posture. 

“You’re an idiot,” she says, sipping her coke. 

“I’m trying to get over--What was I supposed to do?” Clint cries from his refuge. “Fuck, I even asked Coulson out!”

“Wow. What did he said?” She asks, more terrified than curious. 

“What do you think? He said no, of course.”

“Oh my God,  _ thanks _ . I really don’t want to have to go job hunting only because  _ you’re an idiot _ .”

“Coulson? Isn’t he too old for you?” Bucky breaks in, incapable to stay quiet. They are there and Coulson is  _ really old _ . Clint’s head snaps up like a spring and finally, after almost a month, their eyes meet and Bucky feels his own heart crushing into that beautiful blue. Fuck, he missed that idiot. 

“He’s thirty-nine, he’s not  _ old _ !” Clint pouts. 

“Yeah, but what are you, twenty-six?” 

Kate almost pukes on herself the sip of coke she’s drinking. 

“I’m thirty-one, pal,” Clint says, raising an eyebrow and Bucky looks at him more than shocked. 

“You’re  _ what _ ?”

“Oh my God,” Kate coughs and Clint looks at Bucky like he sees him for the first time. 

“She calls me  _ old man _ !” Clint screams, pointing at the girl next to him. 

“Yeah, but she’s like seventeen!”

“She’s  _ twenty-two _ !”

“Oh my  _ God _ !” Kate repeats like a mantra, hitting her own chest, trying to breathe. 

“I can’t believe--” Clint says, ignoring her troubles and looking straight into Bucky’s eye. “How could you not know how old I am, after all this time?”

Bucky shrugs. “You look younger.”

“He really doesn’t,” Kate says, one of her perfect eyebrows goes up, finally breathing again. 

“Shut up, you’re jealous, ‘cause no one says you look younger than you are,” Clint points out. 

“He was sure I was seventeen!”

“Shush, it’s okay, not everyone can be as gorgeous as I am, right Buck?” Clint grins, relaxed and so fucking beautiful that Bucky’s heart just makes a flip in his own chest. Bucky looks at him, at Clint’s face, at his damned blue eyes, at that grinning mouth that fills up all Bucky’s dreams, and says nothing. 

“Okay,” Kate whispers, taking her coke and disappearing. Bucky barely hears her. Clint is still looking at him, his lips curled up more in a soft smile, this time. 

Fuck, he missed that. 

“Buck, I need two more beers for the table eight!” Steve yells from the corner. Bucky and Clint jump with surprise, looking away from the other. 

“Two beers. Okay, coming,” Bucky says to Steve, who asks him with no words if everything is okay. Bucky nods and starts to spill the two pints. Clint clears his voice and takes his own beer - almost finished. 

“I think I’ll go to the others,” he says, disappearing after that and leaving him all alone with the two damned beers ready to go. 

Fuck those beers.  

  
  
  
  


_______________

 

The night is quiet. Almost alarmingly so. The guys are all around their usual table, chatting with muffled voices while Steve and Bucky busy around the counter and among the tables.

Tony is there. It’s a bit of a surprise, given that he and Steve technically never made up after their glorious fight. Tony must know about Steve going to Sam’s meetings, though. He makes excuses to keep him at the table with them, when he is near. He speaks to him in an unexpected, soft, protective manner, as if he’s finally realised that Steve is indeed a fragile thing, and need - no, deserves - to be protected and treated with care. They might not have made up for the fight yet, but they’re definitely getting there, and Bucky couldn’t be happier. 

Loki is there, too. And that, ladies and gentleman, is one hell of a surprise. He’s been practically on the run since Thor came to town, making him chase him, driving the poor man out of his mind for the privilege of talking to him for a minute. 

They’re not sitting next to each other. Thor seems to have regained some sort of dignity, and isn’t forcing his brother - slash, lover, slash, hell if Bucky knows - to talk to him. So there they are, at the same table, ignoring each other with all their efforts, but incapable about doing it for real and just dropping an eye on the other from time to time. 

Jesus Christ, they’re so fucked up Bucky feels almost lucky.

At least until Loki decides to properly attack. Because it’s clear as the sun what he is playing at when he asks Clint to  _ ask him out _ . “You like brunets with fair eyes, right?” he says, and the chatting all around them just drop in silent. Clint nods, not really sure of what to do. Bucky can understand why. Thor is looking at his brother with a betrayed look. 

“What do you earn?”

Loki grins. “A hot night, I hope,” he says - and this time Thor growls, and Natasha puts one of her hands on his arms before he stands up, ready to make a mess. 

There are still customers and none of them want to read on tomorrow’s newspaper how Thor punched Clint in the face - because, yes, of course the paparazzis are still there, they know it and just ignore them. Sooner or later they will leave the pub alone, just like they did after some time Bucky and Steve  _ adopted _ Tony. 

Clint seems to think about Loki’s proposal. Bucky thinks he catches a quick glimpse from him, but he probably just imagined it. 

“Why not?” Clint says. Bucky figured. He is literally dating the world, these days. Jealousy bites his stomach merciless, but this time, he thinks with bitter relieve, he’s in good company. Thor looks like he could tear the whole pub apart with his bare hands. Or fall into tears like a toddler. 

And Bucky... well, he is the one to blame for his own pity love life. He had plenty of time to make his move on Clint and he just wasted his opportunity. One little voice into his brain says that  _ this _ is the time to make a move. Stephen clearly rejected Clint - and how it is possible is beyond Bucky - and Clint is now wounded and  _ easy _ and will say yes to  _ anyone _ . But… no. Bucky will never do something like that to anyone, even if he fucking loves him and that’s the only chance he got. 

“Terrific” Loki says, standing up and making Clint do the same. They occupy the table number one - small, intimate, definitely for couples. Loki crosses his legs and takes a sip of his champagne, Clint smiles nervously and drinks definitely more and a sip of his beer. 

Bucky can’t hear them and so neither can the others, but any one of them is looking at that table, trying to understand what the hell is going on over there. 

“They’re not spending the night together,” Steve says, approaching Bucky. He’s not happy  about that affair either, it’s so evident, but Bucky is not sure on  _ why _ he is not. Steve loves Bucky, he knows that, but Steve loves Thor too. And if first he loved him because of football, now he loves him because they know each other and bonded on the run, and the sports and the struggle on finding t-shirts that can fit them. 

“It’s none of my business,” Bucky says, ignoring the bite of jealousy that eats his stomach. 

“Buck--”

“Customers are at the register, Steve.”

Steve, predictably, goes and takes care of them, all smiles and good manners. The group of friends waves and says  _ goodbye _ and  _ see you soon _ , so both Steve and Bucky smile and wave. 

At the table number one, the new couple is talking - probably, Bucky is not really looking at them. Loki smiles and reaches for Clint’s ear. He says something, grinning and definitely looking at Thor - and Clint almost chokes with the sip of beer. He coughs and splits the beer all over the table and his own shirt. Bucky can hear him cry “Aw, shirt, no” with a rusty voice. Loki doesn’t look amused and Clint tries to smile while excusing himself and disappearing into the restroom. 

One by one, all the customers leave and, finally, Bucky can relax. Now there are just their friends and most of them call the night off too. 

“Some of us have things to do tomorrow, you know,” Sam says, pulling his wallet out. Bucky glares at him and refuse to let him pay the drinks. 

“Tonight you’re all on me, guys,” he declares. Sam looks surprised, but smiles and nods. 

“Thanks man. See you tomorrow night?”

“Brooklyn Grange, 9 p.m. We’ll be there.”   
Sam smiles and makes him look towards the fireplace, where Steve and Tony are chatting intimately. They move with discretion to the other room, already empty. 

“Something says to me that you will come alone,” Sam jokes but Bucky nods. He really hopes that will be the case, because Steve is working really hard on his issues and deserves to be happy. 

“See you tomorrow.” 

Sam, Natasha and Kate close the door behind their backs and Bucky claps his hands. 

“Come on, BUDD-E, time to clean up.” The little roomba chirps and comes out from his charge station, starting to clean under the tables. Bucky collects the empty glasses all around the room, and his eyes just drop into the other room, where Steve and Tony are talking. 

Steve is all nervous and can’t stop shoving his hands in and out his pockets. He crosses his arms, then puts his hands into his jeans’ pockets, then goes to cross them again on his chest. It’s a little dance Bucky knows really well - and he thought he’d never see again, not after things went well with Tony two years ago.    
“I love you,” Bucky overhears Steve saying, shyly. It’s nothing more than a whisper, full of embarrassment, but he says it clearly, looking Tony straight in the eyes. And Tony smiles just a little bit and makes a single step through the other. “Can we talk?” Steve adds, almost desperate. Tony makes another step, takes Steve’s head with his hand and drags him down into kiss him. 

“I’m still mad,” he says, after a long pause. “But we can talk,” he agrees, making Steve smile lightly. 

Bucky leaves them alone and leaves the door slightly open. BUDD-E chirps, asking to let him pass and Bucky picks him up. “Not now, buddy,” he whispers, taking the roomba with him and leaves his friends alone. They need to talk and Bucky want to give them the opportunity.  

It’s past midnight, so it’s the 4th of July, and someone passes running out the pub, drunkenly singing the national anthem. 

Bucky puts the glasses into the dishwasher and starts to clean the draft dispenser. He barely notices Steve and Tony coming back in after a while. They’re not perfectly fine, but they’re on their way and it’s a good look on them, really. 

They reach the door hand in hand, their shoulder brush at every step. 

“Last chance,” Tony says, still keeping Steve’s hand with his. 

“I have to clean,” Steve says - and Bucky can’t really believe what he is hearing. 

“Go,” Bucky intrudes, making the other two turn to him. 

“What? No, Bucky--”

“Go, Steve. I’ll close. You go and have fun.”

“But it’s not fair.”

Bucky shrugs. “It’s your birthday and you have a hot date. I don’t, so go and let Tony make you happy.”

Steve hesitates but then smiles and nods. “Thanks. I owe you one.” he says, throwing Bucky the keys of his bike. 

“Yeah, me too, man,” Tony says. He holds Steve’s hand and pulls him along, closing the door. Bucky shakes his head with a small laugh and locks the door. “Happy birthday, pal,” he murmurs at the empty room.  

He’s alone. Something moves into his belly, some strange feeling, too close to anxiety. 

He feels like he’s wasting time, losing opportunities to be happy - happy like Steve, happy like Tony. But the truth is that, to be happy, he needs Clint, and Clint is out of the way, at this point, even if Bucky would do anything in his power to take a chance with him. 

The restroom door opens with a click and Bucky turns just in time to see Clint Fucking Barton coming out with a large, dark purple spot on his shirt. Just like he’d been summoned. 

“I think it’s clean now--” Clint blinks at Bucky and Bucky blinks back, not sure about what’s happening. Did he just  _ forgot _ about Clint being in the washroom? Like, for real? “Where the hell is everybody?” Clint asks, and then, without waiting for the answer, he adds “They just left me here, right?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Great.”

“Sorry man, that sucks.”

“Yeah, no, it’s okay. I can walk. So... ‘night.”

Clint waves to him and goes through the door to leave, and Bucky can’t let that happen. Not this time. 

“Tell you what, stay and I’ll give you a ride home,” he says with too much energy. But Clint doesn’t seem to notice. 

“I’m not cleaning.”

“I’ll clean, you drink,” Bucky proposes, pouring a beer and giving it to him. 

“Deal,” Clint says with a grin. “Hey, what if I want a mojito?”

“Then you can go fuck yourself.” 

Clint laughs and Bucky relaxes and breathes. Clint’s laugh soon becomes a sigh and the man lets his head hit the counter bar. 

“Are you okay?”

“No,” Clint rubs his hair and stands up again, sighing a little more. “God, it’s like my life is a fucking, poorly written romantic comedy.”

“Really?”

“Eh, think about it. I live with my best friend - my  _ female  _ best friend - and a dog I rescued from a street gang. My friends are happily involved while I can’t--” Clint stops abruptly. “I can’t even have a date without embarrassing myself.” 

“And me? What am I in your little romantic comedy?” Bucky asks, with his heart beating fast and loud. Too loud. Bucky’s pretty sure Clint can hear it. 

“You?” Clint blinks and then smiles without joy, his wonderful blue eyes staring into Bucky’s. “Well, you are the hot bartender friend that gives me advices and free beers while I complaining about my love life, of course.”

Of course. 

_ I want to be your fucking love interest, _ Bucky thinks, but instead he fills Clint’s empty pint. 

“Like...  _ Don’t puke on yourself in front of your date _ , you mean? That kind of advice?”

“Exactly,” this time the smile Clint gives him is more of a grin, but Bucky wants to kiss it anyway. He would want to kiss Clint even when he makes the duck face, so it’s nothing new. 

“So, apart from your unsuccessful dates, how’s life going?” Bucky tries, a light tone to conceal his hunger to know about Clint’s recent life. To have him back as it was before, somehow. 

“Nothing new. You know, this and that. Same old. Without movie thursday, though. It kinda sucks,” Clint offers, and it really is a peace offering, and Bucky has to grab it. To hold on for dear life. 

“Yeah, it sucks” he agrees, with a tiny smile. They stay quiet for a while, Bucky cleaning and Clint drinking, in that familiar silence that always makes Bucky feel like home. Like he is accepted and loved. Something he felt only with Steve - and Tony, too. 

“And you? How are you doing?” Clint asks, reaching for the peanuts bowl. 

“I’ve got... some issues. But I’m working on them, finally,” he admits, ‘cause it’s important and he wants Clint to know. It’s something he wanted to say to him right from the start. “Sam’s helping me and Steve with some unresolved problems. You know, Army, I gotta get these slags out of my system.”

Clint nods. “That’s good news, man. You deserve to be happy. Both you and Steve,” he says, smiling. Then he grins sharkly. “Hell, you know what? I’ll offer you the biggest mojito to celebrate your healing process!”

“Thanks but no, fuck you,” Bucky replies, making Clint laugh out loudly.

“I don’t understand, why do you hate cocktails so much?”

“I don’t  _ hate _ them, it’s just that I don’t like them. They’re always too sweet and really disgusting.”

“Ah, but that’s because you never drunk a good one, then,” Clint stands up and makes it to jump on the counter bar, but stops. “May I?”

“Sure,” Bucky says and slides on his left to make room for the other. Clint jumps and claps his hands. 

“Where’s the ice?” He asks, picking a tumbler and some mint. Bucky is curious, so he gives Clint everything he asks for - and Sam can shut the fuck up and leave Bucky’s mind alone, thank you very much. 

“How is that you know how to make a fuking mojito?” He asks, looking hypnotized while the other man works and cuts a lime and squeezes the juice in the tumbler with two little spoons of white cane sugar. 

“I used to be a bartender, some times ago. I did it for a couple of years,” Clint adds the mint and gently beats the mixture. 

“Where did you learn?”

“My brother. He taught me pretty much everything I know,” Clint says, while his hands work magic with ice and rum. “When I was fourteen, my mum died. My father... he was a fucking bastard with no regrets about punching me and my brother like boxing bags. So we ran away.”

“And became bartender brothers?”

Clint laughs and shakes his head. “Not really. We joined a circus. It was the quicker and easier way to get the hell away from there. We stayed with them for some time, learned how to shoot arrows and do some acrobatic shit. I was pretty good. I still am, to be honest,” He smirks. 

“And then?”

“And then... I fell in love. Hard. I quit the circus crew and stayed with her. Barney, my brother, didn’t take it well, but I did it anyway, for her. We lived together. Well, we were married, so, you know, it was obvious that we lived together. I used what my brother taught me to sell fancy alcohol.”

Bucky blinks. That’s new. All those years, and he never knew Clint was once married. 

“What happened?”

“Ah man, I have no idea,” He laughs sadly. “But, maybe, the crush we both had on the same guy made the difference,” Clint shrugs. “Anyway, we divorced, I joined the Army and they got together, so, everything is good. Sometimes we talk on the phone, it’s cool.” 

Clint smiles and handles him a glass full of ice, mint and rum - and some other shit. Bucky hasn’t paid much attention to what Clint did, not while he’s so close. He sips it - and fuck, Clint’s right, it’s really good. Not too sweet or strong, the rum is there, but the drink is mostly lime and mint and makes his mouth wanting more. 

“Maybe I need to do it again,” Clint says and Bucky almost chokes himself. 

“What?” He blurts out with a gasp. 

“Go away for a while to clear my head. Or maybe some more. New city, fresh start and all that shit.”

“ _ What _ ? No!” Bucky almost screams and Clint blinks in surprise. Bucky’s an idiot and will regret it, but not now, not while Clint is talking about going away and never coming back. 

“What?”

“You can’t! You can’t do it, you can’t go and run away, not from here, not this time!”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause I’d fucking miss you!” Bucky blurts out and-- fuck. He stops and sighs. “I... I would miss this. Miss us.” Bucky shuts his eyes and bites a swear. Fuck, he cannot lose Clint, even if they will be just pals. Even if Clint turns him down for good. 

Instead, Clint starts laughing. He covers his face and laughs, shaking his head. 

“The fuck are you laughing at?”

“You. I’m laughing at you.”

“Oh yeah? You know what, pal? Go away, change city, see if I care.”

“But you care,” Clint says and then kisses him. Bucky freezes. It’s just a second. A small, perfect second in which Clint’s lips brushes against Bucky’s, but it makes Bucky’s body feel like he’s burning and freezing at the same time. 

“Please, please,  _ please _ , tell me I read it right and I didn’t ruin everything between us,” Clint says, and he’s so close Bucky can’t breath, ‘cause Clint is pressed against him and smells so good and apparently wants to kiss him and Bucky can’t believe he never saw that coming. 

“But you... You’re dating other chicks.”

“Did you miss the guys I came in with?”

“Yeah, no, I mean...” Bucky tries to makes sense of his words. “You’re dating  _ other people _ , you never said anything, you--”

“The fuck, man? I tried, but you turned me down!”

“I-- what? No, you never--I would have noticed if you were playing your cards on me!”

Clint looks at him with his mouth open, and Bucky fight the urge to kiss it. He has the feeling that it’s not the right time to do it. 

“Are you high? I wooed you for  _ months _ , you idiot!”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes I did!” Clint pulls him, angrily. “For fuck’s sake, what do you think I was doing?” 

Bucky thinks back to the past months, about Clint, who smiled at him with that tiny, beautiful smile, who reached for his touch even more than usual, who  _ sang _ at him, looking. Who... who asked him out more than once. 

Oh God, he’s an idiot. 

“You did,” Bucky mutters. Clint opens his arms, like saying  _ finally you get it! _

“I did, yes! And you, you fucking moron, you turned me down so many times I thought I was misreading!” 

“I’m an idiot.”

“Yes, you are!” Clint shoots. He avoids Bucky’s kiss by putting one hand on his face. “No, stop, I don’t think I want to kiss you ever again, after knowing how much of an idiot you are,” Clint says. Bucky drowns his metal fingers into Clint’s hair and pulls him in. Clint lets Bucky kiss him, this time, but not kissing him back. “You’re an idiot.” 

“I know.” A kiss. 

“I’m so angry at you right now.”

“I’m sorry.” Another kiss. 

“I can’t believe I was planning to change cities and forget you while you went all sweet on me. How dumb can you be to not see something like  _ me wooing you _ ? I’m a pretty obvious guy,” Clint says, and this time Bucky does not kiss him. He shuts his eyes and sighs. 

“I thought I wouldn’t have a chance with you, not like this,” he says, looking at his prosthetic arm. “And I thought I would be happy even if we were just friends. Even if that meant for me to see you dating some good looking idiot.”

Clint looks at him with his eyes getting bigger and bigger, a little bit of shock painted on his face. 

“Okay,” Clint says. “Okay, you know what? You need to  _ stop talking right now  _ or I will never be able to kiss you properly for how fucking mad I am at you _. Never ever again, Buck _ .”

Bucky smiles and kisses him, and this time Clint kisses him back, pressing his body into Bucky’s, pulling Bucky against him, with his fingers lost into Bucky’s hair, until they’re out of air.

“I’ll do anything you want for your forgiveness,” Bucky says against Clint’s lips, but doesn’t wait for an answer. 

Bucky reaches Clint’s lips and kisses him again. God, he will never get tired of this. His hands stroke Clint’s shirt, slide under it and reach his back.  _ Fuck _ , that’s thrilling. 

Clint moans, and Bucky can’t help himself. He pushes his hips into Clint’s. Bucky’s hands grab Clint from below his ass and lift him on the counter bar. In response, Clint’s legs cling to Bucky’s waist and he tries to lie both of them on Clint’s back. 

“Wait wait  _ wait _ ,” Bucky moans and Clint grunts, frustrated. 

“I swear to God, if you say that you’ve changed your mind, I’m gonna  _ scream _ .”

Bucky laughs and kisses him hard. “Not changing my mind, not at all,” he kisses Clint again and again, and smiles at the soft noise the other man makes in response. “It’s just... The Not-screwing-on-the-counter-bar-rule, you know. If Steve finds out that I broke it, I will be paying the rent of this place for the rest of my life,” Bucky explains and Clint laughs loudly. 

“That’s a really long name for a rule,” Clint says. “And I don’t think Steve would find out.”

“He will. Trust me,” Bucky kisses him gently, biting his bottom lip. “Also, I wanna take time to do this.” Slowly, he kisses Clint’s neck, just under the earlobe, and Clint shakes. 

“Fuck. My place or yours?”

“Mine. Steve is at Tony’s tonight.”

“Good. ‘Cause I won't bother about being not loud,” Clint says with a hungry grin and Bucky groans and kisses him. “Come on. We can even find a better name for the rule while going home”.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know, you guys thought I was lost or aliens took me. No, truth is... I was _sure_ I already pubblished this last chap. Sorry XD  
>  Changing job makes me believe things XD  
> So, let me thank my two girl for last time: Ginger, Stat, I love you 'till the end of the time ♥

Opening the door to his apartment, Bucky feels like he’s a teenager all over again, sneaking in with some girl. The house is empty - of course, Steve won’t be back until morning, unless all hell breaks loose with Tony - and comfortably dark. 

Behind him, Clint steps in like it’s the very first time. 

Anxiety is eating Bucky from the inside, biting his stomach and making his heart beat fast. Every step they take almost echoes in the silence. 

“It’s strange, right? Do you feel strange, too? It’s not just me, is it?” Clint babbles, scratching his head. He’s nervous, and his eyes look at everything but Bucky. 

Bucky nods, and takes a deep breathe. “It’s strange. But I want it. I want this.” 

“Oh, thank God,” Clint exhales. “Because I really, really wanna get down to business, and by business I mean your pants.” As Clint gets closer to him, Bucky can feel a heat vibrating on his skin. He wants to touch Clint so much it’s almost painful. “Come on, kiss me, you fucker.” 

Bucky grins and kisses him, a little sigh escapes from their parted lips. Clint moans and clings to him, his fingers lost into Bucky’s hair like they are meant to be there. Always.  

“Fuck,” Bucky groans when they break apart, panting, flustered, but with two big grins on their lips. They are making out in Steve and Bucky’s living room, like two stupid teenagers and he doesn’t care in the slightest.

“Let’s get to your bed,” Clint whispers, and makes everything more real. That’s it, they're about to have sex, and things are tense and heavy between them. “Please, please your bed, now.”

“Bed,” Bucky repeats and pulls Clint with him in his bedroom. Everything is a mess in there, the bed is still undone, the sheet is balled up at the end of it, one corner of the angle sheet is crumbled, but Bucky doesn’t care. Clint is there, with him, their fingers are crossed together, and when he stops, Clint hugs him from behind. 

“Come one, Buck. I had my waiting,” he moans, kissing his neck. 

“Oh yeah? Twelve years of it?” Bucky gently pushes Clint on the bed as he laughs his ass off. He stands, relish in the simple vision on Clint where he belongs - on his bed, with him. The room is almost pitch black, only some fading lights from the street to light the way. It’s enough for Bucky. He can see Clint’s slender figure, the contour of his face. He gently crawls on him, holds him, feels Clint’s hands exploring his back and his t-shirt. 

“God, I wanted this so much, Buck. I want you. I’m going crazy,” he moans, and, yeah, Bucky feels the same. Everything is on fire, his own head is light like he has fever, his hands shake but don’t stop exploring the other. T-shirts go out of the way really fast and finally Bucky can do something he’s been dreaming about for months. 

His parted lips go down on Clint’s chest and catch one nipple. “Fuck, God,” Clint groans, when he sucks and licks. Bucky doesn’t let his moans distract him, he continues his sweet torture, holding Clint’s nipple between his lips, making it come to life, small and hard and pink and delicious. Clint’s hands slide in his hair and pull him for a long, breathless, chaotic kiss. Next thing Bucky knows, he’s on his back, and Clint’s all over him, sliding and brushing against him. Jeans are getting unbearably tight now, but before Bucky can even think about getting rid of them, Clint’s hands are on the buttons, opening them. 

“Fuck,” Bucky moans, and Clint laughs on his lips. 

“Yeah, that,” he says and goes down for another kiss. 

Bucky allows himself to get lost in his touches, in his kisses. Kissing Clint is hypnotic, is 

beautiful, intense, and gives him a sensation of completeness. He feels strong, invincible, like he could take on the world - and some other planet, too. 

God, he’s in love with Clint. Has been for so long it’s ridiculous. 

“Hey, are you with me, Buck?” Clint’s muffled voice hits his ear and gives him shivers down his back, straight to his sack. His cock twitches and Bucky pulls up, searching for friction. 

“Always,” he pants, and he  _ means  _ it. He reaches for Clint’s jeans and finds them already open.

Clints giggles and lightly pulls. “I was about to explode,” he laughs. But when Bucky’s fingers go under his boxers, Clint moans and pushes into that fist. It’s hot and heavy and Bucky’s mouth fills with saliva because he wants  _ so much _ to lick it and suck it and make Clint moan all night long. Fuck, Bucky is ready to spend his entire life listening to Clint sighing. 

But Clint slides off from him, and Bucky is almost terrified to have spoken out loud and scared the other to death. But Clint lies next to him, instead, slips his jeans and boxer off in one move, with a grin - and, oh god, Bucky is pretty sure he’s never seen something more beautiful. 

Clint is stark naked in Bucky’s bed and his heart trembles. Bucky pulls Clint in for a passionate kiss. Metal fingers hold blonde hair and Clint moans under him. 

Bucky takes his time to explore that wonderful body that he dreamed about for months. He bites and scratches every centimetre, and then kisses, and caresses on the way back, giddying for every kiss and every caress Clint gives him back. 

Clint smiles, under him, and moans when Bucky’s lips touches him. His nipples are pink and hard for Bucky’s attention, and when Bucky kisses them, gently this time, Clint shakes anyway. 

Clint’s body is a piece of art, all his to explore with eyes and lips. Bucky takes his time on every inch of skin, every mole, every scar he finds on his path. He has more than Bucky expected. Some are small, like little buttons, others are long and slender, like cuts. Some others are really big, the kind of scar that you have to endure physical rehabilitation, once healed. Bucky kisses them one by one - he will make time to remember their scheme, he’s sure about that. 

With his lips, he brushes Clint’s red tip, rising from his soft groin. Clint lets out his breath and bites his lip. “God, please, let this not be a wet dream,” he murmurs. With shaking fingers, he moves Bucky’s hair from his face, touches him and watches him cheekly. Bucky is all on Clint’s glorious erection. Fuck, he really hopes it’s not a wet dream too, because he wants to suck that cock off more than anything in the world. His first touch is tentative. It’s not something Bucky has done many times in his life, and it’s been a while since the last time.

So he tries to swallow, just a bit, and Clint shakes under his hands. Clint’s legs split and make room for Bucky, who lies between them and tries not to be heavy on his left shoulder. It aches already, but he doesn’t care, not now that he can suck Clint’s dick. He will take care of it the next morning. 

“Holy--” Clint moans when Bucky tries to go down a little more. He can feel the blood rushing fast into the veins under his tongue, the cock begins to harden into his hand. He swallows more and more, breathless, letting Clint’s fingers into his hair give him the rhythm. And then, when Clint pulls him up, kisses him with the same passion, laying on him, stroking their cocks together. Clint is wrapped on him, all sweaty and out of breath, literally on fire against him. It’s glorious, and Bucky doesn’t want to stop. Ever. But it will, soon, because Clint is deliberately shaking and babbling. 

“Oh god I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come, I’m gonna-”

“Fuck,” Bucky moans, his cock hard and hot and really one step away from coming too. But he doesn’t care, he likes to watch Clint, his face fucking beautiful while his pleasure takes control. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” 

Clint can barely keep his eyelids half open. “You really should come inside of me, you know?” he whispers. And then he comes, spurting hot stripes all over Bucky’s chest. 

“Fuck,” Bucky cries, shaking against him. “Fucking-- _ fuck _ ” he groans, his hips jerking and his entire world becomes white and pure pleasure, that shakes him from inside his soul. 

Bucky moans again, crawling on Clint, panting and laughing. Clint kisses him and sighs, satisfied. 

“Fuck,” Bucky pants, out of breath, rolling on his side and looking at the ceiling. “ _ Fuck, _ ” he repeats, pulling Clint on him. 

Clint, lies on his chest, laughing. “Did you say fuck? Oh, hold on,” he says and reaches out for his jeans. He searches into his pocket for his phone - which is silent, and what the fuck is he doing, giving it to Bucky?

“It’s Steve, he says  _ donation, _ ” Clint explains, all serious, and Bucky pushes him, laughing. 

“Yeah? You know what? Fuck Steve. And fuck you, too.”

“Nah, I’d prefer much more that  _ you _ fucked  _ me, _ ” Clint says and Bucky laughs even more. 

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you really said something as lame as that! Fucking idiot.”

“Hey, if I’m a fucking idiot who says lame things, what does that make the man in the bed with me?”

“Well, it makes him pretty gone for you,” Bucky says sincerely and Clint freezes. 

“Wow. That’s--”

“Too soon?”

“Yeah, well,  _ maybe, _ ” Clint says biting his lips. “But I’m head over heels for you too,” he shrugs, like it’s nothing important and Bucky kisses him, because what else can he do? 

  
  
  


_______________

 

Sometime, during the night, Bucky thinks he’s dreaming. Sometime he feels like everything is so fucking perfect it couldn’t be real. Having Clint in his arms, all smiling and relaxed after sex, kissing him between one talk and another, caressing his messy hair and laughing with him. It seems like the best dream, the one that always leaves him with ash in his mouth and heavy heart into his chest. 

But this time, there won’t be any bitter wake up. This time, Bucky is awake when the sun rises, and he is pressed against Clint, kissing his lips senseless. 

They spend the whole day in bed, chatting, having sex and laughing. It’s the best day ever for Bucky, and judging by Clint’s smile, it’s the same for him. 

At some point, during the morning, Bucky sends a happy birthday message to Steve, who replies saying that they will see each other that night, for the fireworks, like every year. 

Tony has booked the Brooklyn Grange for dinner for everybody, but that doesn’t prevent Bucky and Clint to call for two delivered extra large pizzas, with sweet peppers, onions and so much cheese they have issues cutting every slice. They eat in bed, naked, lying on each other, not caring about the heat of the weather. 

Bucky leaves the empty pizza box under the bed and sighs, hugging the man under him, planting a single kiss on the collarbone. Clint laughs quietly and runs his fingers in Bucky’s hair. 

“Are you sated?”

“That depends on what you’re talking about,” Bucky slides on Clint, and starts to kiss his chest in a slow march towards his neck. “Pizza? Yes. You? Not even a little bit.”

Clint laughs and then moans, when Bucky bites him on the soft spot under his ear. It’s like Bucky is addicted to him, it’s like he never has enough of Clint’s kisses, of Clint’s hands all over him. 

“You know, I can’t stop thinking about something,” Clint adds, some minutes after. “I mean, how is it possible that you didn’t know about me and you and the whole, you know,  _ thing _ .”

Bucky pulls his head up from Clint’s neck and looks him in the eyes. “I knew it,” he admits. Bucky scratches his head nervously, and rolls next to Clint, leaning on the headboard. “But I wasn’t ready and I think I was trying to... I don’t know, deny it. I convinced myself that the man you wanted was that guy, Stephen. And that you were trying to forget him dating everyone in the world but me.”

One hand comes and pulls Bucky’s head to turn and look into Clint’s deadly serious eyes. “I was trying to forget you, you moron,” he says. Clint rolls and buries his head into Bucky’s neck, breathing deeply. “I was so damn happy when we saw that movie, I thought you finally accepted me and I was... God, I wanted to kiss you so bad, and instead you ran away. And even then I thought you were just, I don’t know, embarrassed, nervous.” Clint shrugs, hidden from Bucky’s eyes. He runs the metal hand into Clint’s hair and sighs. 

“I didn’t want to believe you would like to be with a half man like me. Sam helped me understand that I’m worth something, even if I don’t think I am, and that I need to show my  care to my significant ones. Steve, Tony, you... You all are my family, my anchors, and I need to let you know that I love all of you. And so does Steve.”

While Bucky talks, Clint rests on his chest, looking at his face from where he lay sideways, his fingers slowly caressing Bucky’s side. 

“Is Steve okay? Tony and him had some issues, didn’t they?”

“They’re working on it.”

Clint nods, taking Bucky’s answer for good. 

Words slow down, and the two men just lay in a bed that smells of sex and pizza - but neither of them care, and only when it’s late afternoon, they finally move. Shower takes more time than expected, because they ended up doing it together, and that escalated quickly into more sex, and laughter, and happiness. God, Bucky is so damn happy he thinks he could explode. 

Out on the street the weather is perfect. The sky is clear and beautiful, and Bucky and Clint walk from the apartment to the Brooklyn Grange with not even a single trouble in their heads. 

“Hey, look! Life! A whole world outside of your bedroom!” Clint says, pointing at their friends, waiting for them under the big gazebo on the Navy Yard Rooftop. They look at Clint and Bucky and all their eyebrows rise up with a unsaid question. Bucky just reaches for Clint’s hand and crosses their fingers together, making Clint smile happily. 

“About time, dinner is on its way,” Tony calls everybody’s attention. The table under the gazebo is already full of people of all sizes and shapes. Even Thor and Loki are there, very close to each other, and very quiet. Suspiciously quiet. “Come on, lovebirds!” Tony yells, and finally Bucky and the others go and sit with him. Dinner is really good, even if it’s with a lot of vegetables. The meat is good, the company is happy and chatty and the wine goes down easily. When dinner is over, everybody splits apart. Bucky and Clint walk slowly down the farm with Sam and Natasha.They chat and laugh and cheer, until Kate shows up. She’s with her friend, that America girl, and Sam makes Bucky think something’s strange there. “I’m starting to feel we are a minority, Nat,” he says in a whisper, and Bucky raises an eyebrow. Did he just suggests that Kate is interested in Chavez?

Really? Bucky looks at Clint, who is laughing with the two new girls, and just looks back at him, clueless. It can’t be, can it? Bucky would have noticed, for sure, come on - but, then, a voice too similar to Steve’s reminds him that Sam saw the truth about Clint and him. 

Fireworks start suddenly, tearing Bucky from his thoughts, and he raises his nose up, like everyone else, to look at the beautiful show in the sky. 

It’s a magical place, with a breathless view, and it’s hard to believe someone would go anywhere but here for the 4th of July. They need to thank Tony for that - and for everything else. Tony is the best buddy, and they need to show him how much they love him. 

“Happy 4th of July,” Clint smiles quietly and kisses Bucky. The fireworks lighting up all the sky and the multitude of faces rise up. A couple of steps away from them, Bucky oversees Steve reaching for Tony and giving him a kiss, quick and sweet, that makes Tony smile brightly like the damn sun. They are in the open, surrounded by strangers, and anyone could take a picture of them. Steve knows it, Tony knows it, but neither of them cares. 

Bucky smiles and hugs Clint, kisses his head and looks up in the sky. It will be a damn great rest of the year. 

  
  
  


_______________

 

“Hey, can I have a Long Island?”

“Sure, give me a sec!”

“Dude, where’s my Cosmopolitan?”

“Here it is. Have fun, pal!”

“Bucky, I need eight--The hell? What are you doing, Clint?” Steve blinks, looking at the man behind the counter bar. Clint waves with his free hand, the other one occupied by shaking  _ a shaker _ . “Bucky?!”

“What? I don’t do cocktails, you know that. And this assholes don’t stop asking,” Bucky shrugs and turns back to pour a beer. Steve sighs and turns back, but stops abruptly at the first step and turns back again to Bucky and Clint, pointing a finger. “No, wait, one thing: I will not pay you for what you are doing.”

“What? Aw man, did I just work for free ‘till now?”

Steve shrugs with a little grin. “Hey, make Bucky pay you, if you can,” he says and finally goes back to his spot. Clint looks at Bucky with both his eyebrows up. 

“What?”

“Are you planning to pay me?”

Bucky grins and reaches for Clint’s mouth for a quick kiss. “Depends of what you want your payment to be,” his voice is low and deep and Clint shakes against him. 

“Hey! If they start to fuck in front of us, I’ll blow you right here and right now, Steve, I swear to God,” Tony says out loud and the moment vanishes. Clint laughs and Bucky can’t be mad at the man, especially because Steve went all red and hot in the face and probably wants to kick Tony’s ass - and not in a way Tony would appreciate. 

“ _ Nobody will screw in front of the customers, Tony! _ ”

“Killjoy,” Tony mutters, and Clint laughs even more. 

“Hey, I bet I can blow you without anybody noticing,” Clint whispers in Bucky’s ear, giving him a hot, liquid feel of arousal on his spine. 

“I heard that!” Steve screams and this time is Bucky who laughs. 

“Next time,” he kisses Clint’s pout and leaves his body for good. 

“I heard that too!”

Bucky laughs and turns back to fill the beer, while Clint, next to him, works magic with ice. 

Just like a fucking badly written romantic comedy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking around untill the very end ♥


End file.
